


Infinite

by TheGreatCatsby



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, also major character death later in the story, but i'm warning for it just in case someone gets upset, major character death pre-story beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-04 12:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreatCatsby/pseuds/TheGreatCatsby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years since he came out of the ice, four and a half years since the Avengers formed, three years since the Winter Soldier Incident, one year since anyone had seen Thor, and three months since Steve’s last birthday. It was after these milestones that Steve found himself in the Arctic, looking for something that fell from the sky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is gonna be in two parts. And...it's basically a feels dump. Also I kind of get all feely about New York City but I have no idea what it was like in the 40's; I'm just assuming that it wasn't nearly as full of skyscrapers and lights as it is today.

It started, as many of his stories started, in the ice. 

Steve measured time. He measured time constantly because he had lost so much of it. 

Five years since he came out of the ice, four and a half years since the Avengers formed, three years since the Winter Soldier Incident, one year since anyone had seen Thor, and three months since Steve’s last birthday. It was after these milestones that Steve found himself in the Arctic, helping Jane Foster look for something that fell from the sky. 

When he found it, it wasn’t Thor. It wasn’t what any of them were looking for. 

When he jumped into the crater left in the snow and saw the man at the center, thin and bloody and smoking like a meteor just fallen from the sky, he wondered why it had to be him that came to the scene. This wasn’t his to deal with. This was something he wasn’t qualified to handle. 

But still, he picked up Loki and carried him back to the military jet waiting on the ice, because there was no one else to do it. 

Loki didn’t wake up all the way back to New York. 

**

“Yeah, keeping him in the Tower sounds like a good idea,” Tony said when Fury ordered him to put Loki in a specialized cell where Banner could treat his wounds and keep him from being a danger to everyone else. “Actually, it doesn’t sound like a good idea. What’s wrong with you?” 

“Nothing is wrong with me, Stark,” Fury said, dangerously calm. “Stark Tower is home to the people who can best deal with Loki if something goes wrong.” 

“We’re more expendable than your SHIELD agents, you mean,” Tony said. 

“More qualified,” Fury corrected. Tony whistled in disbelief. 

“You’re forgetting that Stark Tower is also in the center of a huge civilian population zone,” Tony said. 

“As far as options go,” Fury said in a way that suggested he was about to hit something, “we have few good ones when it comes to Loki.”

“We need Thor,” Steve spoke up. 

Natasha and Clint looked at each other. The only one missing was Banner, who was still patching up Loki. 

“What?” Steve asked. “Do you know something we don’t?” 

“Share with the class,” Tony said, folding his arms over his chest. 

“Jane Foster has been analyzing atmospheric disturbances,” Natasha said after a moment. “There has been no bifrost activity in over a year.” 

“But today-” Tony started. 

“Today wasn’t the bifrost,” Fury said. “The signature was different.” 

“Maybe Thor’s just busy,” Tony said. “You know, doing kingly stuff.” 

“Last time he was here he said he didn’t want to be king,” Steve pointed out. “He said-”

“People say a lot of things,” Tony said. “As the only person qualified to be king in his family, I don’t think he could get away with not being king.” 

“Actually,” Clint started. 

“Enough,” Fury snapped. “Loki is your responsibility until Thor turns up. For now, assume that Thor will not turn up, and treat the situation as such.” He spun on heel and walked to the elevator. 

“Anyone else feeling screwed over?” Tony asked. 

**

Later that night, Steve decided to visit their new prisoner. Tony had a bunch of fancy cells in the basement of Stark Tower for situations that were, if not exactly like this, then pretty close. Not that they had ever housed prisoners before. Tony didn’t seem to like the idea of turning Stark Tower into a prison. 

Loki wasn’t guarded by humans, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t secure. Jarvis required authorization from a certain set of people in order to open the door to the room adjacent to the cell. Further authorization was required to open the cell itself, and there were a set of doors that acted so that there was no direct opening between the inside of the cell and the outside. 

In front of the first door, there was a hand print scanner. Steve pressed his palm against the surface and Jarvis said, “Access authorized.” The door slid open. 

The room was small, with two chairs and a table and a glass wall that looked into Loki’s cell. The wall wasn’t really made of glass, but some sort of super-reinforced material Tony had described at length and that Steve had quickly forgotten. Nonetheless, it was meant to hold against the strength of the Hulk. 

Magic was a different matter. Tony had interference waves blasting the cell, but he had no surefire way of knowing if they worked, aside from Loki’s continued presence. And even that wasn’t an indication of anything. 

Loki was lying on the cot provided in the cell. Steve cleared his throat, but nothing happened. Either Loki was unconscious or was ignoring him. 

Steve glanced at the door leading into the cell. Bruce had been in there earlier, and he’d come out fine. It was an indication that Loki wasn’t looking to attack, of sorts. Perhaps Loki hadn’t attacked because Bruce could turn into the Hulk. But there was also the possibility that Loki couldn’t attack. 

Steve walked up to the door and placed his hand on the reader. After a moment, Jarvis intoned, “Access authorized” and the door opened with a hiss. 

Steve stepped into the small area between two doors and the one behind him closed. After a pause, the second door opened, and Steve stepped into the cell. 

It was surprisingly bright. 

Steve stopped some distance from Loki, who had shifted on the cot and was sitting up. He looked exhausted, and most of his body was covered in bandages. Steve noted that he was thinner than he had been last time. 

Last time had been years ago. 

Last time, with a command, Loki had nearly leveled Manhattan. Now he sat watching Steve with an expression that wasn’t quite hostile, but was still unfriendly. 

Steve didn’t know what to say. There were plenty of things he’d wanted to say to Loki over the years, but he’d always dismissed them in the assumption that he’d never see Loki again. A lot of them were admonishments of what he’d done. Some were questions, like “Why?” and “How could you do that to your family?” and “Don’t you know Thor loves you?” 

They all faded away as Loki stared at him. 

“Nobody knows why you’re here,” Steve said, eventually. 

Loki’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. He gripped the edge of the cot hard enough that his knuckles were white. 

“How’d you get those injuries?” Steve added. He didn’t want to feel concerned for Loki, but he had been. There had been blood. Loki’s injuries would leave scars. And it was hard to see that on anybody, in Steve’s mind. 

Loki didn’t answer. 

“Okay,” Steve said. “Well, it’s a good thing Dr. Banner patched you up.” 

Still no reply. 

Steve turned back to the door. 

And from behind him, Loki said, “I did it.” 

His voice was hoarse, wrecked, raw. Steve turned around. “Did what?” 

“I destroyed Asgard,” Loki said, with no inflection what-so-ever, but Steve felt like he’d been hit. 

“That’s a lie,” he said. Loki couldn’t have-

“Asgard is no more,” Loki said. “You want to know why I am here, and not locked up in a cell there. That is why.” 

Steve felt several emotions—horror, anger, fear—and he didn’t know how to deal with any of them. “Where is Thor?” he asked evenly. 

“Dead,” Loki said. Then he laughed, unexpectedly harsh, nearly making Steve jump. “I killed him. I killed them all.” 

“Liar,” Steve said. But he wasn’t sure if he believed that. Loki had tried to take over the Earth, causing a lot of destruction in his wake, but he hadn’t destroyed it. He couldn’t have destroyed Asgard. He was Thor’s brother. He couldn’t be that evil. He-

“Tell him,” Loki said. “Tell your Director and your Avengers that Asgard is no more. That Thor is gone.” He was shaking, and Steve wondered if it was from emotion or strain. He wondered if Loki felt anything at all. 

Loki’s eyes met his, and they were bottomless. 

Steve turned and left the room as quickly as possible. 

He did tell the Avengers, and Fury. And he hoped it wasn’t true. But he couldn’t read Loki, couldn’t say for certain that Loki wouldn’t have done it, not after Manhattan, and he could imagine Asgard in flames in the same way, and the burning planet and Thor’s dead body haunted his sleep. 

**

“Contingency plans,” Tony said, clutching a cup of coffee. “We don’t have one.” His eyes were rimmed red. Like the rest of them. Even Natasha looked a bit worse for wear. 

Two days passed since Loki revealed that Thor was dead. No one wanted to believe it, but Thor’s absence from Earth for a year was pretty damning. 

They had shackled Loki’s wrists and drugged him in the hopes of reducing his mobility and keeping him out of his wits enough that he might not try magic if his magic still worked. At the very least, he would find planning a similar attack on the Earth difficult. 

Loki had taken these new measures without a word. In fact, the only one he had spoken to, aside from a few curt words to Bruce during his examination, was Steve. 

“You know war, he knows war,” Natasha told Steve. “Maybe he likes that common ground. Or maybe he thought you’d be the easiest to shock. I don’t know.” 

Steve didn’t know, either. 

He didn’t know much of anything. The past two days had been spent in mourning, but it was hard to mourn without any closure. There was no body, no one had said goodbye to Thor, and no one had even seen him die. And there was that insidious hope that Loki was lying. 

And despite being questioned at length by Natasha, Clint, and Fury, Loki said nothing. 

“You should go back in there,” Natasha suggested as they sat around the counter drinking coffee. It had taken them two days to get to the point where they all didn’t want to be alone to try to deal with something they weren’t sure had happened. 

“This coffee is good,” Tony said, noticing Steve’s discomfort with the idea. “Who made it?”

“You did,” Clint said, “and it’s crap.”

“Oh.” Tony frowned at his cup.

“Anyway,” said Natasha, giving Steve a pointed look, “I think we’ll all benefit from any information we can get.” 

Steve knew it was true. He knew they needed him to do this. Even if he didn’t want to. Even if he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Loki if all of this was true. “Fine,” he said. “After lunch.” 

“It’s 4pm,” Clint said. 

“Oh.” Steve pushed himself off his stool. “Now, then, I guess.” Before any of them could say anything, even though Natasha looked like she wanted to, he was on his way to the cell. 

Loki watched him closely as he went inside, and he tensed when Steve entered the cell. It looked like Steve had an urgent purpose; he’d been moving fast so that he wouldn’t have time to think.

Steve stopped short a few feet from Loki and opened his mouth to say something, only to find out that he had no idea what to say. 

“So they sent you,” Loki said. He made a small noise, like a sigh. 

“Yes,” Steve managed. “They, and I, want to know what’s going on.” 

“Nothing,” Loki said. “Not anymore.” 

This sparked Steve’s anger. “No, not nothing. Something happened and look, we rescued you. We could’ve left you in the ice but we brought you back here and bandaged your injuries and you tell us that Asgard’s gone and Thor’s dead. Forgive me for wanting some answers.” 

“Would you have been able to leave me in the ice?” Loki asked. “Really? 

Steve tried not to think about his own time trapped in the ice, and the awakening. He tried. “We could’ve left you there,” he repeated. 

“So you brought me to a prison,” Loki said. “I suppose you feel pleased with yourselves. You’ve caught the villain, and now you can exact revenge for the death of your comrade and a realm you’ve never set foot on.” 

“Thor was our friend,” Steve said, doing a remarkable job of keeping his voice steady. “We sent you to Asgard to face justice, not to destroy it.” 

Something dark passed over Loki’s face. The only thing he said was, “Take a seat.” 

Steve suddenly felt awkward, standing tall over Loki, like he was alone in a vast space even though he was only standing in the center of a sparsely furnished cell. He took a chair that was placed near the cot and sat down as far away from Loki as he could without being awkward. 

“They have come to me,” Loki said, “the others. They want to know what happened. How did I escape and destroy a realm? Why am I here now to haunt you?” The words were said in a light tone, like they were about something inconsequential. Yet underneath the flippant surface there was a certain brittleness to the way Loki said these things, as if he were trying too hard not to let the facade break. 

There was something wrong, and it was nagging at Steve. “How did you?” he asked. 

Loki exhaled a laugh. “Illusions and tricks.” 

“It doesn’t add up,” Steve said, realizing what was bothering him, why Loki’s whole demeanor seemed wrong. “You destroyed the realm and then came here? To Thor’s enemies?” 

“Where else would I go?” Loki asked. 

“You were injured,” Steve said. “You don’t look like you won.” 

“Destruction is not bloodless even to those causing it,” Loki said. 

“Loki-”

“What else could have happened?” Loki snapped. His eyes widened, slightly, and then he composed himself again. 

“I don’t know,” Steve said in the space it took Loki to regain control. “You tell me.” 

“I did,” Loki said. 

“It was a lie.” 

“You always assume I am lying,” Loki said. “All of you. No matter what I say. If all my words are lies then we must all chose the best one and accept it.”

“This isn’t the best one for me,” Steve said. 

“Running from the truth,” Loki taunted. One of his hands twitched. “Your Avengers accepted readily enough.” 

“You didn’t talk to them,” Steve pointed out. “You’re talking to me. Why is that, anyway?” 

“Would you believe me if I told you it was because you took me from the ice?” Loki asked. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I would. I do.” 

Loki, for a moment, looked shocked. “Fool,” he murmured. Then he leaned forward and, almost aggressively, asked, “Do you regret it now?” 

Did he? If Loki had destroyed Asgard, probably. But if he hadn’t, if Steve was sticking to his guns about Loki not telling the complete truth about it, then he didn’t. And even if Loki had, they now knew that Thor wasn’t coming back, if his being dead were true. Which gave them some closure. 

“No,” he said. 

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Were you not so like Thor I would believe you to be the liar,” he said. 

“Luckily I’m not much of a liar,” Steve said. 

Loki frowned. “You all look terrible. Do you sleep at night?” 

No, Steve did not say. Instead he fired back, “Do you?” 

“I don’t understand you,” Loki said. “Death happens so often in a mortal’s lifetime and yet you mourn each one as if it is the first. As if the experience is just as fresh and raw as the first time you lost someone.” 

“Every person matters,” Steve said. “Maybe they don’t in Asgard. I don’t know. But here, they do. No amount of death will make it easier when someone dies.” 

Loki’s gaze drifted away from Steve to rest on a spot to his left. “That isn’t so,” he said. 

“What isn’t?” Steve asked. “That is doesn’t get easier?” 

Loki took a moment to answer. “In Asgard, barring war, death is so rare that one might go a lifetime without seeing it. And when it does happen, it-” he swallowed. “It is hard to comprehend.” 

“So why would any of you kill anyone?” Steve asked. “If it’s such a shock?”

Loki seemed stricken. His eyes snapped to Steve’s face, and in a rush he said, “If human lives are so fleeting, why cut them even shorter?” 

It was almost defensive. Steve frowned. “I’m not saying that your killing is worse than our killing. Just—I think we can understand each other when we talk about grief. I don’t think we’re that different. I don’t like death, or killing, but sometimes it’s a necessary evil. Hopefully that becomes less true because I hate that saying, and—why are you staring at me?” 

Because Loki was staring. He got a hold of himself and leaned forward. “Do not compare me to you,” Loki snapped. “I am not human. We don’t understand each other.” 

“Now that’s a lie,” Steve said. 

“Is it?” Loki asked. “You save people, and I destroy them. You are the only one among us who grieves.” 

Steve stared at Loki, whose face was too pale and sharp, whose eyes were framed by bruised skin and who was infused with emotion, most of it rage. Lies or not, the conversation had gotten to him. And Steve didn’t know what to make of this. Loki said he didn’t grieve, but something had marked his conscience all the same. 

He needed time. 

“Okay,” he said after a moment. “I don’t think you destroy people, and I certainly don’t always save them. I was a soldier, remember? And there are moments I’m not proud of. But, you know, I’ll be back.” 

And he left, just as fast as he’d come in. 

**

Steve managed to sleep that night, and if his night was full of unsettling dreams about war and death then at least they were hazy enough in the morning that he could forget them. He needed to focus his energy on Loki. 

He ran into Bruce in the kitchen. Bruce handed him a cup of tea and said, “I hear you’re on Loki duty.” 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “You were too.” 

“My job was easy,” Bruce said. “I didn’t have to hold a conversation. But he talks to you. What’s your secret?” 

“Dumb luck,” Steve said. 

Bruce sighed. “No one wants to touch him with a ten foot pole. I don’t really, either. I wish we could let him go to SHIELD, but here we can guarantee his treatment is...humane. I don’t trust SHIELD with that.” 

Steve nodded. He didn’t really, either. “Some people would say different.” 

“I like humane,” Bruce said. “Humane is nice. Even if.” He shuddered. “I don’t like to think about Loki beyond what I have to. It makes me want to, well—it wouldn’t be pretty.” 

Steve took a sip of his tea, fruity and comfortingly warm. “Do you still look after him?”

“With Tony,” Bruce said, “monitoring the feeds, keeping tabs on his vitals and health, administering the drugs. His injuries are slowly healing. He doesn’t have much of an appetite. He doesn’t sleep.” He grimaced. “He wakes up screaming. Neither of us really talk about that, but it might be useful to you.” 

“Maybe,” Steve agreed. He placed his cup on the counter. “Anything you need to know?”

Bruce shook his head. “Just be careful.”

“Will do.” Steve left Bruce to his tea and headed down to the cell. 

Loki was awake, was perched on the edge of his cot like he had been the day before, and he did look awful, like he wasn’t taking care of himself, or like something wouldn’t let him. Part of it, Steve thought, had to do with the drugs they’d been giving him. He had lucid enough to talk, though, which was vaguely worrying. Unless Natasha had told Bruce to lower the dose so that Steve could get information. It seemed likely; there would be no point talking to a prisoner who couldn’t talk or think straight. 

Steve took his seat and didn’t give Loki time to think. He asked, “So why can’t you sleep?” 

Loki jerked his gaze sharply to Steve’s face. “What?” 

“Bruce says you don’t sleep and when you do sleep you wake up screaming,” Steve told him. “Why?” 

Loki stared at him. He seemed to be trying to come up with something good to say, but apparently his thoughts weren’t providing him with anything satisfactory, so he instead asked, “Does Banner really care so much about my health?” 

“He’s a doctor,” Steve said, “and contrary to popular belief we like to treat our prisoners well.” 

“Does SHIELD?” Loki asked. 

“You’re not with SHIELD,” Steve reminded him. “I don’t want to hand you over to them, either. But some people would disagree.” 

“Almost everyone,” Loki said. “Your team wants me gone from this tower, from this Earth if possible. Locked away and forgotten about. As have many in the past.” 

Steve sighed. “They’d be hard pressed to forget you.” 

Loki folded his hands on his lap and gave Steve a strained smile. “So what shall we discuss today, Captain? Or have you come back to tell me all the ways in which I am lying?” 

“I’ll let you talk,” Steve said. 

Loki raised his eyebrows. “How can you stand to be in my presence after what I’ve done?” 

“Well, I’m not convinced you did it, for starters,” Steve said, and it became more true when he said it out loud.

“And what of New York? What of the near destruction of your world? The taking of your friend’s mind? The deaths?” Loki’s voice became louder with each one. “I did those things, and you know it. You saw.” 

“I know,” Steve said. “I haven’t forgotten. I’m angry about it. But when someone needs help I try to help them. I try to give them a chance. And out there, in the ice, you looked like you needed help.” 

Loki made a frustrated noise and looked away. “There’s no second chance.” 

This time Steve was the one leaning forward. “What happened?” 

Loki’s jaw clenched. 

“It makes a difference,” Steve said. 

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Loki muttered. 

“I would,” Steve insisted. 

Loki turned on him in an instant, face twisted with rage. “Lies! All of my words are taken for lies. I am the liesmith—it is all I do. What is the point of telling truths that will fall on deaf ears? This is the greatest trick I have played on you all—you never know the truth of my words.” 

“But you want me to know the truth,” Steve said. “You dug yourself this hole and now you want out of it.” 

“Yes,” Loki said. “I have, all my life, been making the wrong choice. I have always done the wrong thing. I have always lied. I have always been a lie. I was born wrong, and I will die wrong, and no one will know me as anything other than wrong.” His voice broke. 

Steve swallowed. He remembered his childhood of sicknesses and weakness and never being good enough for anyone. He couldn’t imagine feeling that way for centuries. “Loki,” he said, quietly. “You can make the right choices.” 

“It doesn’t matter what I do,” Loki said. “In the eyes of everyone else the choices are always wrong.” 

“Well, a lot of them have been wrong,” Steve said, and Loki flinched. “Killing people, trying to take over, taking control of someone’s mind. Those are wrong, Loki. But that doesn’t mean that you are wrong. We may be our choices, but we can always change the choices we make.” 

Loki shuddered. “I was wrong, to come here,” he said. 

“No,” Steve said. “Why did you come?” 

There was no answer. Loki seemed to be lost in his thoughts, gaze empty of anything. He closed his eyes. And he stood up in one fluid motion. 

Steve rose as well, and took a step forward. Loki opened his eyes, which were glassy, and looked at Steve. 

“I didn’t kill them,” he said softly. 

“Thor’s alive?” Steve asked. 

Loki’s hands clenched and unclenched. “They all died.” 

“What-” Before Steve could finish his question, Loki vanished before his eyes. 

Alarms blared throughout the Tower, lights flashed, and Jarvis was saying things that Steve couldn’t hear over the rest of the noise. Natasha and Clint were the first to arrive, guns drawn, but all they arrived to was Steve standing in an empty cell. 

Tony came a few moments later, by which time Steve had exited the cell, and swore. “The goddamn drugs didn’t work!” he shouted. 

“Neither did the other tech,” Natasha pointed out. “We have to contact Foster and Fury so we can track him.” 

Tony nodded and ran off. 

Natasha turned her attention to Steve and frowned. “What did he say to you, before he left?” 

Steve looked at her and Clint. Both expectant. Both waiting. Both wanting so much for there to be answers that would allow them deal with what they needed to deal with. 

“He said he didn’t kill them,” Steve said, “but that they were all dead. Asgard. Thor.”

Natasha nodded, a bit too sharply. Clint turned and walked out. After a moment, Steve asked, “Do you believe him?” 

“I didn’t believe his first story,” Natasha said after a moment, “and I wasn’t there to hear his second. It’s your call.” 

“I believe him,” Steve said, “but I want to know why.” 

“Closure,” Natasha said. “We all want that.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You should get some rest.”

“We all should,” Steve said. “But I don’t think we’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep for a long time.” 

**

The atmosphere in Stark Tower was like a fog that made everything feel closed-off and vaguely unpleasant. No one knew how to deal with recent events, and Steve included himself in that number. But he did know that he needed to get out. 

He had an apartment in Brooklyn SHIELD had given him for times like this. After two days of no news from SHIELD or Jane Foster, he decided that he could spare some time away. 

Brooklyn now was different than the Brooklyn of his childhood. There were more buildings, and things seemed old in a way that wasn’t so much from history as from being worn down. It was like that in almost all of the city, but around Stark Tower everything was new and sky-high. 

Steve walked the streets in the evenings. There was a nice park in a nice neighborhood a few stops away that faced west along the water, and at sunset the view of the tip of Manhattan with its glittering skyscrapers lighting up against the backdrop of the setting sun was one of the most beautiful sights Steve had ever seen. It calmed him, and made him feel warm. This was New York City at its most stunning, and it was an experience unique to Brooklyn, and there was something comforting about that. 

This night he stopped walking and paused at his favorite viewing spot, leaning against the railing to watch the sun set. A few boats ambled past in the water, and the usual sound of cars passing and horns beeping had faded away into dim background music. 

The sky was painted shades of orange and red and dark blue and purple. Steve drank it all in. He’d tried to paint it, a few times, this very view, but he could never get it completely right. There was nothing like seeing it in person, and every time it was like seeing it anew. And this was one thing that he appreciated about his new life in the future; in the 1930’s and 40’s, this view didn’t exist. And there were times when he had to remind himself of the good things now. 

Steve was almost lost in the view, but something brushing against his arm brought him back to himself. People usually didn’t get that close to each other in public, especially not in the city, but someone or something had come up right next to him while he’d been distracted. 

He turned and was shocked to see Loki leaning forward against the railing, also taking in the view. He was dressed in a long, black coat, his dark hair curling slightly over the collar. 

“You scared me,” Steve said. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” 

The lights of the skyscrapers were just beginning to flicker on. 

“Yes,” Loki said. “Unexpectedly so.”

“It’s hard to take in beauty when you’re leading an invasion,” Steve said. Loki frowned at him and he added, “Sorry. Just—that’s probably why you missed it.” 

Loki nodded and looked back at the city. Steve did, too. They were still close, he noticed. Loki hadn’t moved away, and Steve hadn’t really been inclined to, either. Their arms were just touching. It felt surprisingly comforting. Steve had never taken in the view here with anyone else, though there were many people he had wanted to show it to. He found himself glad that Loki could see it. 

After a few moments, Loki said, “There was a war.” 

Steve looked at him. Loki seemed to prefer looking at the city. “In Asgard?”

“Yes,” Loki said. His words were short, clipped, like they hurt to speak. “I was in my cell at the time. Locked away. There was an invasion led by a being named Thanos, an assault against Asgard to gain our most precious artifacts. Thanos would use them to control the universe.”

“Is he a threat now?” Steve asked, shocked that there was a being that could have that much power. 

“No,” Loki said. “Thor killed him, but was killed himself in the battle. As was most of Asgard destroyed, and killed. The battle went on for months, and Thor had to use some of the artifacts to destroy the opposition. But their power was great, hard to control, and it destroyed him in the process. Asgard is in ruins now, with very few people left to pick up the pieces.” 

“You were one of them,” Steve said. He moved a little closer, so their arms were pressed together more firmly. 

Loki’s eyes were wet. “Yes and no,” he said, voice shaking slightly. “Thanos and a creature called the Other had tasked me to bring the Tesseract to them in exchange for an army,” and here, Steve realized that Loki was talking about the army he’d unleashed on Manhattan. “I failed, and they were not pleased. It was an arrangement made out of grudging necessity, on both sides. The Other was alive after the war and we fought. I won, but barely, and I was wounded, as you saw. I dragged him into the void.” 

Steve had no idea what that meant, but he could guess that it wasn’t pleasant. “And you fell here?” 

“Yes,” Loki said. It was dark now, only the light of the city reflecting in the water and the dim lamps in the park illuminating the two of them. Loki turned to Steve, and a tear ran down his cheek, and he said, “I could have used that power. I could have fought them from the beginning. They came because I told them what Asgard had, because I brought the Tesseract here. And I could have used those artifacts-”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Steve said. He placed his hand on Loki’s arm. “Why didn’t you tell us that first?” 

“I tried to forget,” Loki said. “It would have been better if I had killed them in revenge. It is what I had wanted, once, after all. But not like this—not. I thought I wanted it and I didn’t.” He swallowed. “Only you saw the lie.” 

Steve didn’t know what to say. Words seemed inadequate, now. Instead, he drew Loki into a hug, allowing Loki to rest his head on his shoulder. Steve could feel Loki shaking, could hear his breath hitching, and he held him tighter. 

“I can’t,” Loki choked, and he pulled away, hurriedly drying his eyes with his coat sleeve. “You don’t want this. I’m wrong. I can’t-”

“No,” Steve said, reaching out for Loki’s arm again. “I do want to help you. I care.” 

“I hurt you so much,” Loki said, “and I wasn’t sorry.” 

“Second chance,” Steve said. “Loki-”

“I don’t know what to do,” Loki said. 

“You can talk to me,” Steve said. “You can find me when you need me. I’m not gonna make you stay, and I’m not gonna call SHIELD. But I think you need someone.” 

Loki shook his head. “I have spent my whole life being self-reliant,” Loki said. “I don’t need anyone.” He sighed. “I have always wanted someone. And I have always been good at destroying those that I did have.” He pulled away. He would leave at any moment. 

“I’m here,” Steve said. “Will you come back?”

“If you wish.” 

“I do wish,” Steve said, with a small smile. Loki would try to make it look like Steve’s decision. 

Loki nodded. And then he disappeared. 

Steve hoped that he would see Loki again soon. He was worried. He did care. People said that he could be irritatingly optimistic about people but Steve felt that it was a good way to look at the world. Loki was intelligent, and it wasn’t like he felt nothing at all; he had loved, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Yes, he had more of a penchant for causing trouble than most, so Thor had often said. He did not control negative emotions well and was prone to making rash decisions almost as often as he was prone to carefully planning things out. He lied, often. These did not make him a bad person. He had made the wrong choices, that was the problem, but he was capable of make the right ones. 

Steve had seen it. He hoped Loki would see it, too.


	2. Chapter 2

Months passed. 

Steve tried not to think about Loki. He tried not to think about that night facing the city skyline, watching the sunset. 

He thought about it anyway. 

The others didn’t know. Steve was surprised—there were cameras everywhere in the city. SHIELD had their ways. He assumed it had to do with Loki, with his magic. Loki wouldn’t be seen if he didn’t want to be seen. Which made things easier for Steve. No one asked him any questions. 

He thought about Thor, too. Had Thor known, in the end, that Loki hadn’t wanted him dead? He hoped so. He hoped Thor hadn’t suffered too much. 

Steve missed him. Thor’s optimism and joy was contagious, and to think that he would never experience that again, that Thor would never appear in Avengers Tower in a swirl of wind and lightning and a smile, was heartbreaking. 

But as time moved on, so did the Avengers. 

Thor would become just another memory. 

**

Months passed, and Steve found himself trapped by the modern reincarnation of Hydra. It brought back nightmares of the Red Skull, of Tesseract weapons and death. He was strapped to a cold metal table, and they stuck him with needles and plied him for information. They wanted Fury’s Tesseract weapons. 

Fury didn’t have Tesseract weapons anymore. 

They wanted Stark’s arc reactor technology. 

Steve had no idea how that worked. 

He wouldn’t have told them anything even if he’d had the information to give. 

They strapped him to the cold metal table and drugged him and broke his bones. He healed, quickly. The drugs messed with his mind. He wondered if the whole thing wasn’t a long nightmare and he would wake in Stark Tower with Jarvis asking him if he was okay. He hoped that was the case. 

The Avengers didn’t find him. 

Steve woke up from an unconsciousness caused by the pain of his leg being broken (again) to find his mind startlingly clear, and the sharp feeling of a broken leg reduced to a dull ache. He wondered how long he’d been asleep—he had to have been out for a long time. He healed faster than the average human, but not in a matter of hours. 

Something dark moved at the edge of his vision. 

“Hello,” Steve rasped. He was still confined to the table. 

The person moved into Steve’s field of vision, and Steve saw that it was Loki. He looked pale, and there was barely concealed fury in his eyes. 

“Hello,” Steve said. “Long time, no see.” 

“Shut up,” Loki snapped. He waved a shaking hand, and Steve’s bindings disappeared. 

Steve sat up and felt a wave of dizziness. Loki turned back to the computers that lined the desks surrounding the metal table, something that Steve hadn’t noticed before from his vantage point. He rubbed his skin. He was naked, and there was a constant chill in his bones that wouldn’t go away. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have some clothes on you, would you?” he asked. 

Loki waved a hand and a robe appeared in Steve’s lap. He put it on and tried to think of what to say next. 

“We should probably get out of here,” he decided. “Someone’s going to come for me.”

“No one will,” Loki said. “I made sure of that.” 

Steve swallowed. “What did you do?” 

“How did they capture you?” Loki asked. His hand hovered over one of the many keyboards. 

“A trap,” Steve said. “I was stupid. I went in without backup.” 

“Why would you do such a thing?” Loki asked. 

“I-” Steve frowned. Was Loki angry at him? “It comes with the job.” 

“I wasn’t aware that stupidity was a job requirement,” Loki said. 

“Wait a second,” Steve said, “I didn’t want to get captured. I wasn’t planning on it. Did you come here just to lecture me on how stupid I was?” 

“No,” Loki said, pressing down on a few keys. “I have the feeling I should have.” 

Steve watched as one of the computer screens went blank. “Loki, we might need that information.” 

“Is it worth your life?” Loki asked. 

Steve stared at him. “This isn’t about my life.” 

Loki turned. At the same time, the rest of the computer screens went blank. He strode over to Steve and grabbed him by the arm, and suddenly, the floor dropped out from under both of them, and Steve felt weightless, and then he was slammed into a hard surface. 

He blinked, and the top floor of Stark Tower appeared around him. 

Loki stood above him, looking up at the ceiling. “I have returned your captain,” he announced. “Do not look for me.” He lowered his gaze to Steve. “You won’t find me.” 

He disappeared. 

Steve staggered to his feet. 

“The Avengers have been notified,” Jarvis told him. “Mr. Rogers, is there anything you need?” 

“An explanation,” Steve said, but he knew he wasn’t getting that any time soon. 

**

For the next few days Loki was the subject of discussion. Steve didn’t want to talk about why Loki had appeared and rescued him, and he certainly didn’t want to talk about how the whole of Hydra had been found bloodily murdered at the base where Steve had been captured. 

“Well, he did our job for us,” Tony said. “Not that it makes me feel better given that it’s, you know, our job.” He was bitter over not having found Steve first, despite Steve’s assurances that he didn’t blame them, that he knew they’d been trying. 

Natasha watched him a bit more closely, but even she had to admit that Steve didn’t know much. He didn’t know how Loki had tracked him down, or how he’d gotten into Stark Tower. Magic was hardly a satisfying answer even if it were true. 

The rest of it was strange. Steve barely felt any pain from the injuries inflicted upon him by Hydra. And the nightmares were there, but he could deal with them. They were hazy, like they had been softened, and he knew this had to do with Loki, too. 

He woke up from one such nightmare of cold metal and breaking bone to a dark room. He tried to sit up, and something pushed him down. 

“Do you truly care so little for your life?” Loki’s soft voice murmured. He was on top of Steve, pinning him down, his face close to Steve’s. Unreadable. 

“It isn’t about my life,” Steve said. “I’m saving other peoples’ lives. It’s what we do.” 

“Is that so,” Loki said. “I could kill you right now, and promise never to kill another as long as I live. Would you take that offer?” 

“Yes,” Steve said. 

Loki’s hand pushed into his chest to the point of it being painful. “Do not set your life at so little worth.” 

“Is this you telling me you care?” Steve asked. 

“You of all people should not be throwing your life away,” Loki said. “Stop this nonsense.” 

“I can't,” Steve said. “It’s who I am. I’d gladly sacrifice my life for anyone if it meant they got to live. I’d do it for you.” 

Loki’s eyes widened. “Don’t say that.” 

“I would,” Steve said. “Why are you here?” 

“Is this the thanks I get for saving you?” Loki asked. “I should have left you there.” 

“You don’t mean that,” Steve said. 

“Neither do you,” Loki snarled. He pushed himself off Steve and backed away from the bed. 

“Loki-” Steve started, but he was talking to air. 

“Sir?” Jarvis asked. 

“It’s fine,” Steve said. “Just—had a weird dream.” 

He couldn’t go back to sleep. 

**

A robot exploded in mid-air. 

“I hate this,” Tony said over the Avengers’ comms. “Not only are these robots ten times shittier than anything I could make, but why the fuck would anyone mount a robot invasion of New York? I mean, come on. Cliche much?” 

They were fighting Dr. Doom’s Doombots. And winning. But it was causing quite the mess. 

On the ground, Steve hit one of the bots over the head with his shield. It staggered back and aimed a beam of energy at him. 

“And magic,” Tony continued. “I’d kill to know that, even if Doom’s craftsmanship is pretty crappy.” 

Steve wondered how Doom knew about magic. There were very few people on Earth who did. 

He tossed his SHIELD at the Doombot and managed to push it back. It aimed, and someone grabbed Steve’s arm from behind, and—

The city disappeared, and in its place was trees, and mountains. And quiet. 

Steve spun around to find Loki watching him. 

“Take me back,” he said. 

Loki didn’t respond. 

“I was in the middle of a fight,” Steve said. “My team needs me.” He felt anger flaring up inside his chest. “Loki, this isn’t the time. Take me back.” 

“We need to talk,” Loki said. 

Steve made a noise of frustration. “Can’t it wait?” 

“I don’t recall agreeing to only do things on your terms,” Loki said. 

Steve sighed. “I’m not happy about this. What is it?” 

“If you were to die,” Loki said, slowly, “you would be with Thor. Valhalla, the hall of the honorably fallen. I would never see you again. Valhalla is a place I cannot reach.” 

“I don’t believe in-” Steve started, but Loki cut over him. 

“I would be in Hel.” 

Steve frowned. “Neither of us are dead.” 

“You flirt with death every time you work with your team,” Loki said. 

Steve stared at him. “Are you worried?” 

Loki glanced away. 

Steve felt shocked. “You shouldn’t—why?” 

Loki’s jaw clenched. He looked at Steve again. “Asgard is gone.” 

Steve swallowed. “You can’t spend your time trying to prevent something that might not even happen soon.” 

“It will happen,” Loki snapped. “Perhaps you don’t understand. It occurs so often to you—”

“And I never get used to it,” Steve countered. “What makes you think it doesn’t get harder for me each time?” 

“Your own death is easy,” Loki said. He was practically shouting. “You don’t have to be the one left behind.” 

Steve took a step back, but Loki countered with a step forward. “You care about me,” Steve said, suddenly. “Is it because I helped you? You could just say, you know, that you care-”

“Shut up,” Loki said, taking another step closer. His eyes burned. 

“It wouldn’t hurt you to just say it,” Steve said. 

Loki closed the distance between them, clasping one hand behind Steve’s neck, pulling them together so that their faces were inches apart. 

“You will kill me,” Loki said. His breath was cool. 

“You’re killing yourself,” Steve said. “I want to help you.” 

“How can you?” Loki asked. “When you throw your life into peril at every opportunity?” 

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care,” Steve said. “What are you doing, Loki? If you care, just say it. What do you want?” 

Loki swallowed. “I don’t know what to do.” 

Steve put a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “You don’t have to.” 

“It tears at me,” Loki said. “I see them dying. My fault. I fear I can only ever be the monster.” He choked on a laugh. “And yet you don’t see me that way. What am I to you?” 

What, indeed. “You’ve killed a lot of people,” Steve said. “You were my enemy. But I see someone who could use a second chance.” 

“Do you forgive, Rogers?” Loki asked. 

Did he? He remembered memorial services, of families crying. He thought about Loki’s home and everyone he knew, gone. “Do you regret it?” 

“Yes,” Loki said, “and no. It is part of who I am. The horrors never go away. It is the same with your Black Widow, with Stark. You accept them as they are. Would you accept me the same way?” 

A point. “They changed,” Steve said. “So I would, but only if you took your second chance.” 

“Accepted.” The forest disappeared, and Steve found himself in front of the same Doombot. 

“Steve!” Clint cried through his earpiece. “Where the fuck did you go?” 

“Um,” Steve said. The Doombot was dead, joins sparking electricity. 

He had no idea how to explain himself. 

**

Loki appeared a week later in Steve’s room. Before Steve could react, Loki took his hand, surprisingly gently, and the room disappeared and was replaced by another, more sparse room. A living room, Steve realized. 

There was a couch, and a television, and books. The books were the only thing that weren’t furniture. Everything else looked new, the place barely lived in. Loki guided him to the couch and gestured for him to sit. 

“I hear that Midgardians like to indulge in alcoholic beverages,” Loki said. “Have you a preference?” 

“I don’t get drunk,” Steve said, “so whatever you’re having.” 

Loki raised an eyebrow and disappeared into what Steve assumed was the kitchen. He returned with two glasses and a bottle of vodka. 

“Natasha would love you for that,” Steve said. 

Loki poured them each a glass. Steve took a burning sip and Loki sat next to him. 

“Traditionally,” Loki said, after a rather large pull of his drink, “it is a custom to drink and be merry after a battle.” 

“I haven’t battled today,” Steve said. “Here people drink just for fun.” 

“I thought as much,” Loki said. 

Steve laughed. “Is this you inviting me to hang out?” 

“Perhaps.” 

“You could just, I don’t know, text me or something. Do you have a phone?” 

“A phone,” Loki repeated. 

Steve took out his phone, one of Tony’s smartphone models, and passed it to Loki, who looked intrigued. 

“Usually,” Steve said, “people invite other people over ahead of time rather than just kidnapping them.” 

“Is that so,” Loki murmured, turning the phone over in his hands. 

“I can’t believe you’ve been on this planet for so long without one of these,” Steve said. 

“I haven’t had the need,” Loki said. He turned the phone on and found that by touching the screen he could make things happen. “What can this device do?” 

“You know what the internet is, right?” 

Loki gave him a look. 

“Okay,” Steve said. “Well, it does that. It calls people. Sends them messages. It can tell you where you are, and where other things are, and how to get there. It tells you what time it is. It can also pay for things but I’m kind of not ready to try that. And I’m sure Tony hid a bunch of other things in here.” 

Loki took another long sip of vodka. One of his long fingers slid along the surface of the phone, changing the screen to a different set of apps. 

“You can write things down,” Steve continued, going with what he saw on the screen, “or find out what the weather is, or learn computer coding—I didn’t put that there.” 

Loki handed Steve the phone. “If I get this device,” he said, “will you show me how it works?” 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Of course. I’ll even give you my number. Do you have a piece of paper?” 

“Paper,” Loki repeated. His eyes were somewhat glassy. 

Steve smiled at him. “Are you trying to get drunk?” 

Loki took another drink. Steve had lost count, but a significant portion of the vodka was already gone. Instead he leaned forward and said, “Captain—my captain—”

“You’ve been doing a lot of reading,” Steve noted. “Do you like poetry?” 

“Prose,” Loki said. “I like it better. And science. Science reading is different. Fascinating. Like magic but not magic.” 

“Like magic but not magic,” Steve repeated. “Tony would kill to know what you mean by that.”

“And you wouldn’t?” Loki asked. 

“I’m not a science guy,” Steve said. “I mean, it’d be interesting to hear about magic. If you could explain it I’d love to hear. But I can’t promise to understand.” 

Loki hummed around another mouthful of vodka. “Perhaps another time,” he said. The bottle was empty. “I would like to discuss something else.” 

“Okay,” Steve said, taking a sip of his own drink. He felt a bit concerned that Loki had downed pretty much a whole bottle by himself in a short amount of time. Then he remembered that, while Loki could get drunk, it wouldn’t kill him like it would a human. He’d seen Thor do similar. 

The reminder of Thor made him feel sad, for a moment. He put down his drink. 

“Is something wrong?” Loki asked. 

“No,” Steve said. “I’m just taking a break.” 

Loki was very close. He’d moved closer to Steve at some point. “What are we doing, Captain Rogers?” The words were surprisingly crisp for someone who was drunk. 

The actual question took Steve by surprise as well. “We’re getting to know each other,” he said. 

Loki’s expression closed off. “I would say we’ve passed that point, wouldn’t you? You have offered me a second chance and I’ve told you something I have not told anyone else. I-” He cut himself off. 

“We’re friends,” Steve amended. “You caught me by surprise. I’ve never really been asked that question before. But I thought you knew that.” 

“You told me you were giving me a second chance,” Loki said. “You never explained what it meant.” 

Steve frowned. “It means a second chance, Loki. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Loki said, too quickly. “Nothing is wrong.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Steve said. “It’s okay to admit-”

“As have you,” Loki interrupted. “I’m sure you’d rather it was Thor here.” 

That hit Steve hard. 

“I try one thing and never finish,” Loki continued, absently. “I move on to something else. Life here is strange, compared to what I lived before. I don’t know which life I’m trying to lead, and sometimes I wonder if I should stop.” 

Steve wanted to reach out and touch him. He was so blank, but his words—

“If it were me,” Loki continued, “I would prefer it. Perhaps I could replace Thor with his lesser brother, but it would always be unsatisfying. It would never be enough.”

“I’m not replacing Thor,” Steve managed. “You’re different.”

“Worse,” Loki said. “Always a shadow of him.” 

Steve put a hand on Loki’s arm. “You’re not,” he said. 

Loki passed a hand in front of his face, then, and frowned. “I feel strange,” he said. 

“You didn’t need to get drunk to talk to me,” Steve said. 

Loki gave a strange laugh. “I think I did,” he said, swaying a little. “I am so tired.”

“You can sleep,” Steve said. 

“Sleep will not help,” Loki told him. 

“Yes it will,” Steve said. 

“How will you get home?” 

“I’ll stay,” Steve said. 

Loki sighed. “You will regret this in the morning.” 

“I’m sure I won’t,” Steve said. “You can even use my legs as a pillow. That’s how much I’m not regretting it.” 

Loki frowned at him for a moment and then did as Steve suggested, laying his head on Steve’s legs and curling up on the couch. He was too tall to stretch out, but the whole thing was amusing. Steve knew Loki wouldn’t be doing this if he weren’t drunk. 

At some point, they fell asleep. 

**

In his dream, Steve was screaming. 

No—he wasn’t. Steve’s eyes flew open. He hadn’t been dreaming, or if he had, he couldn’t remember anything except the scream. Something hit him hard in the stomach and his hand flew to the area and collided with Loki’s arm. 

He grabbed Loki’s wrist on reflex. Loki was the one screaming. Steve tried to stop Loki thrashing and called his name several times before Loki sat up and lurched forward, nearly hitting Steve in the face, gasping. One hand clutched his chest. The other pushed out at something invisible; several books scattered across the room. 

“Loki,” Steve said, gently rubbing his shoulder. 

Loki turned to him abruptly, breathing harsh. His eyes were wide, cheeks wet. 

“Loki,” Steve repeated, because it looked as if Loki were still half in the nightmare. 

Loki’s breathing only sped up, and Steve squeezed his arm. “What second chance do I have? Those I’ve wronged the most will never be around to see it.” He gasped and pulled his arm away from Steve. “What is the point?” 

Steve felt out of his depth. He’d been in a situation where everyone he knew was dead, but for much different reasons. Still, it had been sudden. And yet he hadn’t felt like Loki was feeling now. 

“I think you have to decide what it is yourself,” he said. He certainly couldn’t tell him. 

Loki’s breaths slowed. “Had you not found me in the ice, I would have become a ghost,” he said. “There would be no one to see any new life I might make for myself.” He sighed. “I am tired.” 

“Loki,” Steve said. 

“I have always been selfish,” Loki said, voice shaking a little. His lips quirked up in the parody of a smile. “I don’t take well to being left behind.” 

This—Loki—was breaking Steve’s heart. He imagined himself. Imagined if he had taken the deaths of his friends a little bit differently. Imagined if he hadn’t grown up the way he did. 

“Come here,” he said. 

Loki’s fake smile disappeared. He considered Steve and for a moment something like horror passed over his face. Steve knew what it was; Loki was terrified that he’d let Steve see him at his most vulnerable, that he’d confessed so much. But Steve wasn’t going to use it against him. 

Loki finally leaned into Steve, head against Steve’s chest. Steve put his arms around Loki’s thin body, felt him still shaking a little, and rubbed circles into his back. Loki wasn’t small, he was tall, but they fit. 

“This is what we’re doing,” Steve murmured into his ear. 

“I make no promises,” Loki said, voice muffled by Steve’s shirt. 

Steve nodded. It scared him, that, but he imagined Loki was scared, too. And sometimes it wasn’t the time for promises. Now was not that time. 

Loki’s skin was cool. His breathing became steady, and Steve found himself breathing in sync with Loki, until he, too, drifted off to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

The sun streamed through the window and Steve opened his eyes, blinking until he could see. Loki was a comfortable weight on his chest. Steve’s neck felt a bit sore, but he didn’t move. Loki was still asleep, breathing slowly, perhaps sleeping well for the first time in a long time.

What were they doing? 

Steve knew this wouldn’t last. It didn’t have to do with Loki. Someone would find out; SHIELD, the Avengers, anyone, and they wouldn’t want to understand. Maybe Steve was giving them too little credit, but he’d seen the way SHIELD operated, and he wasn’t sure he could trust them with something like this. 

He closed his eyes. Loki made a noise like a sigh in his sleep. He was the only one Loki was talking to at the moment, probably. The only one who had any investment in his existence. It made Steve feel just a bit overwhelmed; he had never been that to someone before. 

Loki stirred and opened his eyes, looking up at Steve. For a moment, his brows drew together in confusion. And then he sat up, adjusting his shirt and smoothing back his hair before Steve could even say anything. 

“I’m sorry,” Loki said. “I-”

“Don’t be,” Steve said. “You needed rest.” 

Loki watched him for a moment. “Are you hungry?” 

“I can make breakfast,” Steve said. 

“No, you’re the guest,” Loki said, and he stood up and went into the kitchen. There was silence for a few moments. 

Steve leaned back on the couch and sighed. He shouldn’t have missed the feeling of Loki against him. He shouldn’t have, but he did. 

When Loki hadn’t returned after a few minutes, Steve went to check on him. The kitchen was just as sparse as the rest of the apartment. Loki was standing in front of the refrigerator, staring inside. Steve cleared his throat and Loki started, then turned to Steve with his lips pressed in a thin line. 

“Loki?” Steve asked, gently. 

“I have very little food,” Loki said. “Only tea. Nothing with which I can make a decent meal for two.” 

“Okay,” Steve said. “Well, we can go out to eat.” 

“Out,” Loki repeated. 

“Yeah, like to a diner,” Steve said. “Where are we, anyway?” 

“Manhattan,” Loki said. “Lower Manhattan. Not far from Stark Tower.” 

“It’s actually a pretty far walk,” Steve pointed out. “Anyway, let’s get fixed up and go.” 

“To a diner,” Loki said. “With people.” 

Steve nodded. “It’s good. Trust me.” He turned and walked out of the kitchen and Loki followed. 

Fifteen minutes later they were at a diner crowded with people. It was a weekday, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t people who wanted to eat a really good breakfast while everyone else was at work. The waitress, a brunette young woman, sat them both down, got them coffee, and left them to their menus. 

Loki took a sip of coffee and then looked around the diner, his expression shuttered, his posture stiff. He took the menu into his hands and started flipping through it. 

Steve said, “I always like to get an omelet with home fries and toast, but that’s savory. If you like something sweet—” 

“These foods seem strange,” Loki interrupted. “What is French Toast?” 

“It’s like a sweet bread,” Steve said. “You have it with syrup.” 

“I’m not very hungry,” Loki murmured. 

“A bagel might be good, then,” Steve suggested. Loki nodded, his eyes still on the menu, but he looked like he wasn’t really seeing it. 

A few minutes later the waitress came back and they placed their orders. The menus were taken away, and Loki’s eyes darted between tables, taking in everything. 

“Do you like coffee?” Steve asked. Thor had liked coffee a lot. Even though he had enough energy to power a small town without it. 

Loki glanced down at the mug held in his hands. “It is interesting,” he said. “Warm. Different than tea.” 

“I like it better,” Steve said, “but tea is good too. Do you like tea?” 

“It suffices,” Loki said, still looking at his mug. 

Steve frowned. Was Loki really retreating from him despite what he’d told him last night? Or was this something else? 

The waitress brought them their food, which was a relief considering that talking to Loki was like pulling teeth. Loki frowned at Steve’s large plate and then spent five minutes intently buttering his bagel. 

Steve had already eaten half his breakfast by the time Loki took two bites. It seemed he was doing more looking around than eating. 

“Loki,” Steve said, leaning forward so that the sound of his voice wouldn’t carry, “is something wrong?” 

Loki glanced up at Steve again. His jaw clenched. Suddenly, he pushed himself up and out of his seat, muttered, “Sorry,” and walked out. 

Steve looked down at his plate, suddenly not very hungry. He fished out his wallet, found enough money to cover the bill and leave a generous tip for the waitress who was probably very confused, and went outside. 

Loki was off to the side of the entrance, leaning against the building and watching cars crawl past in the street. Steve settled next to him and watched his face. Loki took a deep breath and let it out, slowly, his arms wrapped around himself as if trying to draw in warmth. It was a bit chilly. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. 

“Yes,” Loki said. 

Steve nodded and let them stand in silence for a bit. Then he said, “There aren’t as much taxis here as uptown.” Which was inane, and probably not true, but the silence was getting to him. 

“There are so many of you in one place,” Loki said. 

“It is a diner-”

“I haven’t had a meal among others in a long time,” Loki said. He took another deep breath. “I feel strange.” 

He wasn’t drunk this time, Steve knew that much. “You might be sad,” he said. 

Loki nodded. “I must be, that these ordinary things can affect me so. You think I’m weak for it.” 

“No,” Steve said. “Never weak. Emotions aren’t weak.” 

Loki chanced a look at Steve, who gave him a small smile in return, meant to be comforting. Loki stepped out into the sidewalk, then, and in front of Steve. “You stayed with me last night,” he said. “That was kind.” 

“I told you,” Steve said. “I want to help.” 

Loki nodded, and then leaned forward and brushed his lips against Steve’s. 

Steve closed his eyes and returned the kiss just as gently. Loki pulled away and Steve found himself asking, “Is this how you say thanks?” But when he opened his eyes, no one was there. 

**

Loki reappeared in a graveyard a few miles away, one that seemed to stretch on endlessly despite being located so very close to a city full of humans who were very alive. He was in a row of headstones, all of them marked, some of them adorned with flowers. He shivered. 

In Asgard, every death was marked with a funeral during which the body was sent out into the water and burned. There was no place to go mourn their body. Only a ceremony. If one didn’t think about it, one could imagine the death hadn’t occurred. 

Loki hadn’t seen Thor die. He’d only seen the body. Thor’s body, dead and never to live again, and he remembered thinking about how he’d tried to make Thor like that and had nearly succeeded, but hadn’t, and now that Thor was truly dead he knew he didn’t want it. 

Too late. 

A sharp pain in his palm alerted Loki to the world around him. He uncurled his hand to find that his nails had dug into his palm, leaving the skin stained with blood. He stared at the blood and saw a pool of it on the stone floor around Thor’s body, and he choked on a sob. 

Another sob echoed his. 

Loki took a deep breath and looked around, suddenly in the graveyard again. A man, older than Steve but not yet old, was kneeling by a grave. He sobbed as he placed a bouquet of roses at the base of the headstone. 

“How many have you put here?” a voice whispered in his ear. 

Loki whipped around but no one was there. His heart beat faster, like it had in the diner. Like being around those he’d tried to destroy made him feel that much more like a monster. He’d wanted it once, only to realize that he didn’t want it like this. 

Too late. 

He felt dizzy. The graves blurred in front of his eyes and his head felt light—

He was sitting on the cold ground, and the man a few headstones away was still kneeling there, breath hitching. 

Before they fell, the Other had called him a killer. A monster. Had told him that all of this destruction was his fault. That he could have saved Thor, if only he hadn’t put himself in the position not to. 

And there was Steve, insisting that Loki was worth saving. 

Loki had no idea if Steve was wrong or not. He didn’t know much. 

He hated being this vulnerable. He hated looking weak in front of a former enemy. 

He didn’t know what to do. 

He allowed the cemetery to dissolve around him and he ended up back in his apartment. 

He could not shake the dark thoughts in his mind, no matter how he tried. 

But he could distract himself until maybe, one day, those thoughts went away. 

He didn’t like to think about what would happen if they didn’t. 

**

Steve was in the gym sparring with a punching bag when he noticed eyes on him. He looked over and saw Clint leaning against the frame of the doorway, watching. 

Steve stopped what he was doing and made his way over. Before he could reach him, however, Clint moved and walked away. 

And that was worrying, that Clint was watching him. 

He went back to his room, showered, and then sat on his bed wondering what to do. Breakfast with Loki had been less than a success. But that kiss. That was something to think about. 

Except...

He couldn’t shake the concern that all that he’d been working for with Loki would turn into nothing if anyone else found out. 

A knock on his door brought him out of his thoughts. He went over, hesitated in opening it, and then decided that there was really no point in not opening the door. On the other side was Natasha. 

“Can I come in?” she asked. 

Steve nodded and stepped aside to let her pass, closing the door behind her. She took a seat on the edge of his bed. 

“Clint thinks you’re acting strange,” she said. 

Steve tried not to let any emotion show on his face. He wasn’t as good at it as she was. 

“He doesn’t know why,” Natasha continued. “He thinks I do. He thinks something’s being kept from him.” 

“Is it?” Steve asked. 

“Yes,” Natasha said. “From all of us. SHIELD keeps track of each and every one of us, and the only one stealthy enough to really get away with disappearing is Tony, and only because he has the tech to counter ours. Not that he does it that often.” 

Steve’s mouth went dry. “What are you talking about?” 

“You and Loki,” Natasha said. “You’ve been with him. You know where he lives. He didn’t just escape and disappear. He’s been keeping in contact with you and, for some reason, you’re letting him without telling anyone else. What’s going on?” 

“Does Fury know?” Steve asked. 

“No,” Natasha said. “I’ve been keeping things from SHIELD, too. I think you’re a good person, Steve. But I need to know what’s going on, or else I will expose this.” 

“You can’t,” Steve said. He didn’t mean to sound as desperate as he did, but he thought about Loki, exhausted and tired and a bit broken. 

Natasha looked at him, expectant. 

“You said you didn’t believe his first story,” Steve said. “And neither did I. I heard his second. He didn’t kill Thor. He wanted to, once, but that choice got taken away from him and everything he knew is gone and I think there might be a chance that he could change. That he could live a better life. Not be a threat. SHIELD won’t help that become a reality.” 

“You care about him,” Natasha said. 

Steve swallowed. “Yeah.” 

She stood up. “I can’t guarantee anything,” she told him. “I can keep secrets, but SHIELD aren’t stupid. Eventually, they’ll find out. I can help you when the time comes, as long as Loki doesn’t do anything stupid.” Her tone suggested that she thought Loki might. 

“You know better than anyone that it’s possible,” Steve told her. 

Natasha nodded. “And I also know how hard that is,” she said, and then she was gone. 

Steve sank onto his bed and tried not to think about how he was shaking. 

**

Loki, it seemed, never appeared like a normal person. He never gave warning, never asked for an invitation, and never invited. Steve was walking in Central Park when he saw someone fall into step with him in his peripheral vision, and when he looked, Loki was there. 

“How do you do that?” he asked. 

Loki didn’t answer. He pulled something out of his pocket and held it out for Steve to see. 

It was a cellphone. 

“Um,” Steve said. 

“It doesn’t work well with magic,” Loki told him, and Steve realized that he was leading them towards a bench. 

It was cold. Loki didn’t seem to mind. 

“Tony says that normal tech usually doesn’t,” Steve said. “Do you know how to work it?” They sat. 

“Somewhat,” Loki said. “I know how to look up information and how to dial numbers and send messages.”

“That’s pretty much all you need to know,” Steve said. 

“I don’t have any numbers,” Loki said. 

Steve took the phone from him and, with hands made clumsy by the cold, typed his name and number into Loki’s phone. 

Loki took it back and pocketed it. Then he said, “What do you do when you have nothing to do?” 

“Um,” Steve said. “I hang out with my team. I read, sometimes, or watch things. I exercise.” 

Loki nodded. 

“I draw,” Steve added. 

Another nod. 

“Do you draw?” Steve asked. 

“No,” Loki said. “I can create illusions with magic, but it seems a fairly useless skill here.” 

“How so?” 

Loki gave Steve a look. “Who would see it?” 

“I would,” Steve said. “If you wanted to show me.” 

“What do you want to see?” Loki asked, softly. 

Steve thought about it. Part of him wanted to say Asgard, and a larger part of him knew that he couldn’t ask Loki that. He thought about other things Loki might have seen, and realized he’d probably seen so much. 

He settled on, “Another planet.” 

Loki nodded and said, “Close your eyes.” 

Steve did. And waited. 

After a moment Loki said, “Open them.” 

Steve did. And gasped. 

He was still on the park bench, but there was no park around them. There was no city surrounding the park. Instead they were atop a cliff overlooking a vast sea, and there was a pink sun setting in the distance. He looked behind him and saw a silver castle rising into the air, and then he looked up. 

The sky was filled with stars scattered like glitter. It looked like some sort of dream, or a fantasy. 

“Where is this?” he asked. 

“Vanaheim,” Loki said.

“We’re not actually there, are we?” Steve asked. 

Loki smirked. “No. We are still on a park bench in New York City.” 

“Good.” Steve looked around. “So if I wanted to go in the ocean, I couldn’t.” 

“You would look like a fool,” Loki said. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve said. 

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “Not many realms share this beauty.” 

Steve looked at Loki, whose eyes were fixed on the horizon. He wondered how much effort it took to keep the spell going. 

“Where does Earth rate?” he asked. 

“In the middle,” Loki said. “As it should, given its position in the universe.” 

“Midgard,” Steve said. He’d heard Thor talk about it often enough. 

Loki nodded. “I used to think that Midgard was a backwater planet. Now I think you must be lucky to live here.” 

Steve glanced up at the stars. Very few places on Earth had this view. “Why do you say that?” 

“I-” Loki paused and stiffened. 

“What?” Steve asked. And then he smelled something strange. Burning. 

He turned around and saw that the castle had changed. It was golden. It was smouldering. The sky had turned red with the smoke from fire, and everything felt uncomfortably hot, and the smell became overwhelming, acrid—

Steve blinked and just as quickly he was staring at a field in Central Park watching two squirrels fight each other. He turned back to Loki only to find him gone. 

The air felt several times colder. 

**

Loki stumbled into his bathroom and heaved into the toilet until there was nothing left and his breaths came in sobs. He felt his back hit the cold, hard surface of the wall and his drew his legs to his chest, grasping at the fabric of his pants. He was shaking, and the smell of burning wouldn’t leave. 

It had taken but a stray thought to bring those memories back. He thought he was safe when awake, that Asgard burning, that everything wrong in his life and everything he’d ever done wrong, was something restricted to his nightmares. 

And that wasn’t true. 

And Steve had seen. Steve had been seeing how much of a wreck Loki was, and it would be his undoing. He wanted to be strong. He wanted to move on. He didn’t want to have the memories of burning and death at every turn. 

But the fact still remained that he wasn’t human, and this wasn’t his home, and no matter how he tried to live like them he would always have hundreds of years that they never had. He would have seen things they never saw. And he couldn’t stay forever even if he wanted to. 

The world would move on, die and be reborn again, and Loki would remain when all he wanted to do was run. 

He had been left behind. And he couldn’t stand it. 

But he had no idea what to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The graveyard I was thinking of is in the Bronx, if you're curious.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this! And also, Happy New Year!

Steve thought about going to Loki’s apartment. He knew where it was. But he couldn’t be sure Loki wouldn’t just run away. Loki was hard to predict. So he sent Loki a text instead, asking him if he was okay. 

He got no response. 

It wasn’t unexpected. The week passed, and the Avengers fought some troublemakers in Los Angeles, and they returned to cold New York where there was snow and more clouds than sun and sharp wind. 

Steve wasn’t exactly a fan of the winter. 

At the end of the week, he received one text. It said, “Meet me at the Great Lawn in Central Park in twenty minutes.” 

It was below freezing outside. Any surface not road or sidewalk was covered in snow. Steve couldn’t imagine why Loki would want to be outside at a time like this, but he put on his warmest clothes and headed over anyway. 

**

Loki was standing exactly in the middle of the Great Lawn. Which was impressive, considering how big it was. Around him, children played in the snow, adults walked their dogs, and many people were just walking past on their way to somewhere else. Without the shelter of trees or buildings, the wind was extremely harsh. 

Loki didn’t seem to mind, dressed as he was in a long, black coat with dark green gloves that looked like they were made of leather. As Steve got closer, he noted that Loki looked even worse than he had last time. His expression was blank, but his eyes followed Steve as he came closer until he came to a stop. 

Steve asked, “Are you okay? I’m sorry about-”

“Don’t be,” Loki interrupted, voice as sharp and crisp as the freezing air. “I feel like running. And if I did, I would never stop. Even you, as much as you care, would not hold me here.” 

“Why not?” Steve asked. He felt a strong pang of worry. 

“You’ll die,” Loki said. “Immortality is not a gift. We live too long.” He sighed. “I thought you ought to know.” 

“Are you running?” Steve asked. He almost didn’t want to know the answer. He wanted make Loki be silent. 

Loki’s eyes scanned Steve’s face. Apparently, he was thinking along similar lines, because he moved forward and pressed his lips against Steve’s. 

It was almost like a plea. Make me stay. Steve’s hands were in Loki’s hair, grasping at the strands, pulling him closer and keeping his there. Loki’s hands were on the back of Steve’s neck, like he never wanted to let go. 

But he did. 

He pulled back and murmured, “I want to spar.” 

“What?” was Steve’s response because he hadn’t expected that. 

“You said you pass your time exercising,” Loki said. “Sometimes. I want to spar with you.” 

“We can’t do it inside?” Steve asked. 

“There is more room here,” Loki said. 

There was a strangeness to this energy, and something in Loki’s eyes that prompted Steve to ask again, “Are you okay?” 

Loki laughed, sharply. “Does it matter? What would you do if I wasn’t?” 

Steve honestly didn’t know. Probably not fight Loki. “It does matter.” 

A knife appeared in Loki’s hands, seemingly from nowhere. It was small and sleek, a strangely shaped dagger meant to look wicked. The pommel was green. “With weapons or without?” Loki asked. 

“I don’t have anything on me,” Steve said. Loki glanced up at him, and he added, “Without.” 

The dagger vanished. Steve wanted to know how Loki did that, but at this point it didn’t matter. Loki stepped back and took a stance that suggested he was ready to begin. 

Steve went with it. The knife hadn’t been a threat, not really, but there was something dangerous in Loki that he didn’t want to provoke. And after their last encounter—

He wanted to know what was going on in Loki’s head. He wanted to help. And if this was the only way, then he’d play along. 

Loki struck first, attempting to unbalance Steve, who dodged the blow and the subsequent retaliation. Steve wasn’t sure exactly how this was supposed to go, but Loki set the tone for him. He was fast, dodging in and out, but it wasn’t just that. Loki was naturally a fast person, but he seemed to be fighting this time with a sort of viciousness reserved for an actual battle, the only difference being that he had no weapons. 

At one point he disappeared and reappeared behind Steve, managing to land a blow to his back. Steve didn’t fall, but he was put off balance, not having expected the magic. He took it in stride, though, and set his mind to watch for that sort of thing. 

The snow on the ground had turned to ice in patches, and it was hard to keep his footing. Loki seemed to have no problem with this, moving his feet intricately as a figure skater might on the ice. He’d fought for much longer than Steve ever had, and it occurred to Steve that despite not being as much of a warrior type as Thor had been, Loki had still probably seen more battles than the whole of the Avengers combined. 

That was a bit unsettling. 

Steve wasn’t even aware that people were starting to watch. He was only aware of Loki, and wondering what would happen when someone won, or what winning even meant here. 

He managed to trip up Loki so that he fell, and took full advantage, because Loki hadn’t been cutting corners the whole time. He pinned Loki against the snow, and there was a split second of calm when Steve thought that was it, that was what Loki had been waiting for. 

Then Loki’s eyes widened and he disappeared, causing Steve to lurch forward into the ground. 

Something hit him from behind. He turned, only for Loki’s fist to meet his face. The shock of being hit so hard so suddenly was so much that he wasn’t able to move for a second and Loki’s fist kept pummeling, kept going until Steve put one arm over his face. Loki’s fists were slamming into his chest, and he actually wasn’t even pinning Steve to the ground. Steve realized, dazed, that with each punch Loki snarled viciously, and then he heard yelling. 

The hitting stopped. Loki was gone, and Steve sat up gingerly. His stomach and ribs and chest all were sore, though it seemed nothing was broken. His nose felt a bit numb, his head was ringing a little. He would heal. 

Two policemen were dragging Loki back, and behind them were a crowd of people watching. Steve swallowed; he knew fighting in a public place wasn’t a good idea, and yet Loki had insisted. Loki continued to struggle, and the men lost their grip. He punched one in the face and the man fell to the ground. Loki dodged a grab from the second officer and started running. 

An arrow sliced through the air and caught Loki in the chest. 

Steve shouted as Loki fell, hard, on the snow. Clint ran into view, another arrow already strung on his bow. Natasha and Tony, in his suit, were with him, and it was Tony who grabbed Loki. 

Loki wrenched the arrow out of his chest with a scream and tried to use it as a weapon, but Tony grabbed it before any damage could be done. And then he grabbed Loki, and flew off. 

Steve was still on the ground, and Natasha came towards him. He stood up on shaky legs. 

“What happened?” she asked. 

“He wanted to spar,” Steve said, voice hoarse, “so I let him.” 

“He attacked you.” 

“He isn’t okay,” Steve said. “I think he got lost in the fight.” 

Natasha gestured for Steve to follow her out of the park. On the way, they passed the spot where Tony had taken Loki. There was bright red blood soaking into the snow, and Steve felt sick. 

“He’s being taken back to where we kept him last time,” Natasha said. “Tony might have a more effective force field, but we don’t know. So you two need to talk.” 

Steve knew that, too. But he wanted to calm down first. 

Clint had gone off ahead of them. 

“He’s upset,” Natasha said. “I think he was hoping Loki would never show up again.” She glanced at him. “We’ll give you time. But not too much. Too much and he might leave again, or Fury will ask SHIELD to take over. I can only do so much.” 

Steve nodded. “Thank you,” he said. 

He hoped what he could do would be enough. 

**

Four hours later was enough time, and Loki had been stuck back in the cell underneath Stark Tower. He had calmed down, but there was something hollow in his eyes. 

When Steve got there, he met Clint, who had been keeping watch.

“Bystanders said you met him there,” Clint said. “They said a lot of things that I don’t want to believe. But you and Nat are keeping something from me, and it involves him.” 

“I don’t want to lie to you,” Steve said. “I don’t like it. But I’m not sure you want the truth.” 

“I want the truth,” Clint said. “We’re not SHIELD. We’re not supposed to lie to each other.” 

The comparison stung. “Loki,” Steve said, “told me the truth. I think I can help him. I think a second chance is fair.” 

“Why?” Clint asked. He added, quickly, “Don’t answer that. I know why. I think you’re being stupid.” 

“I disagree,” Steve said. 

Clint gave him a side-long look. “Who is he to you?” 

“I care about him,” Steve said. “It’s the only thing that matters.” Clint nodded, and gestured to the cell. 

“Go ahead,” he said. “He’s all yours.” 

Steve knew Clint was angry. He would be, too, in Clint’s position. He could have been making a mistake. A big one. He walked into the cell anyway, because he had committed something to Loki, and he wasn’t about to let it go so easily. 

Loki just sat there. He seemed completely spent, like all the life had been taken out of him. And Steve sincerely hoped that this wasn’t the case. He took a seat across from Loki in a chair probably left by Natasha. 

“Loki,” he said. “What happened?” 

“Weakness,” Loki said. He sounded hoarse, likely from the screaming. 

“How’s your wound?” Steve asked. He couldn’t see it through Loki’s clothes, which had somehow mended themselves. 

“Fine,” Loki said. He turned his head, slightly, in Clint’s direction. “It brought me back to myself.” 

“Back to yourself,” Steve repeated. 

“I keep going back,” Loki said. “To the battle. The destruction. You saw.” 

He had. Steve remembered the burning. 

“I thought I didn’t have a home,” Loki said. “I cast myself out. And now I don’t have one.” He gave Steve a sickly smile. “It would seem I got what I wanted, and I don’t know what to do with it. I-” He took a sharp breath. 

“You what?” Steve asked softly. 

“Have you had a thought, or a nightmare, so horrifying,” Loki said, “that you could not be sure how you would live with it were it to come true?” 

Steve had. He nodded, throat stuck. “Loki—” his voice was too thick. 

“Here we are,” Loki said. 

Steve had been thinking the same thing. Back in this cell. Back to a future that could be anything. Almost. Except...

Except Loki had asked Steve for help, in the most convoluted way possible. But he had asked, and Steve had answered. But Steve, too, was stuck. Where did they go now? 

“Stay,” was what Steve said out loud. 

Loki paled. 

“I told you how I feel,” Steve said, “that I want to help. I—you’re interesting. You haven’t told me about magic yet. I haven’t showed you around the city. I’m pretty sure if you got bored, or if you needed a distraction, Tony would be willing to let you toy around in the lab. You learn science and he learns magic. I could show you a lot of other things and you could tell me a lot of things. We have a lot more to know about each other, a lot more to do. If you did this to say goodbye it’s a really crappy way to do it.” 

Silence. 

Loki stared at him, like he was terrified. 

“Why not?” Steve asked. 

“You’ll die,” Loki said. “You all will die.” His voice cracked. “And it won’t be my choice.” 

“Loki-”

“After the death of a realm,” Loki cut him off, “how can I live with that?” 

“That isn’t now,” Steve pointed out. 

Loki shook his head. “The past and the future overwhelm my present,” he said. “I wonder if I even have one.”

“It’s your choice,” Steve said. “But for what it’s worth, I think you do.” 

Loki glanced at Clint. “They all know, now,” he murmured. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Well, you did kiss me in public.” Loki turned sharply to him, but Steve smiled. “And then tried to fight me. I think they would know something’s going on by now.” 

Loki sighed and ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in strange directions. It was, Steve thought, a bit endearing. He hadn’t thought Loki capable of such a human gesture. 

“SHIELD doesn’t have to get involved if you don’t want them to,” Steve said. “They know, but...”

“But they will listen to you,” Loki said. “SHIELD could not keep me if they tried.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and seemed to shake off some of the hollowness that had been so present in him for the whole of the conversation. 

Steve looked outside. Clint was trying, very hard, to look unaffected by whatever he saw or heard. He felt a bit guilty, that Clint was in this position. He can’t have been unaffected. 

He turned back to Loki, who was also looking at Clint, his mouth set in a thin line. 

Steve cleared his throat. 

Loki jerked his gaze in Steve’s direction. 

“Staring at him won’t help,” Steve said. 

Loki nodded and stood up. In the corner of his eye, Steve saw Clint aim an arrow. 

“Are you going to leave like a normal person?” Steve asked. 

Loki took a few steps forward. His lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk and he stopped with his face a few inches from Steve’s. “No,” he said, and he disappeared. 

Steve heard Clint cursing profusely. Once he was outside, Clint snapped, “I can’t deal with magic,” and walked away as fast as possible. 

If that was going to be Clint’s reaction to the whole thing, then all Steve could feel was relief.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magic explaining in the latter half of the chapter.

Loki didn’t want to have Steve as an anchor. He would rather be self reliant. But there was something about Steve’s calmness that drew him back over and over, that kept him from drowning in his own personal hell. 

That was terrifying. 

He spent two days trying to pull himself into something resembling normalcy, where he felt like his mind wouldn’t toss him into the past or make him worry too much about the future at a seconds’ notice. It was hard. His mind was not one to be calmed easily, and he knew it would take a lot more time to heal. 

He started telling himself things. They weren’t lies and they weren’t truths, but Loki pretended that they were true because he needed them to be. He told himself that when everyone he cared about, when everyone who cared about him died, he would stop living. He would not make promises. He told himself that what he’d done, he’d needed to do. He told himself that Thor never would have let him fight Thanos with the Tesseract, anyway. 

He told himself that Thor was an idiot. 

These last two were the hardest to believe. 

He tried not to think about anything beyond that. He tried to do as Steve said, to put himself in the now and not be overwhelmed by the hundreds of years spent somewhere else being someone else, or the vast nothingness that was possibly hundreds more years that might be spent alone. 

It was hard. 

Then a knock came at his door, right when he was becoming frustrated, as his heart started beating faster because he’d thought about how much he didn’t know what he would do and how much he didn’t have, forcing his mind into the present. 

He opened the door, half expecting Steve. He got Natasha. 

He stepped back, half in surprise to let her pass, and she walked over to his bookshelf at the opposite end of the room and turned around. Loki closed the door behind him, carefully. If anyone could pick his mind apart, it was her. His mind was already frayed as it was; he did not want her digging around inside it. 

“Why Steve?” she asked. 

Loki stayed where he was, right by the door. He felt like he needed an exit. He knew she knew that. But he lifted his chin, just a little defiantly. “He saw through my lies,” Loki said. “He was willing to find the truth.” He laughed, softly. “Which is not easy, with a liar.” 

“He’s a good person,” Natasha said. “You shouldn’t take advantage of that.” 

“He’s offered so nicely,” Loki said. Natasha’s mouth twitched and he added, “I won’t hurt him unless he hurts me.”

“You have a history of hurting people who’ve done nothing to you,” Natasha pointed out. “I can remind you—”

“Don’t,” Loki snapped. “I know what I’ve done. I found it necessary.” 

“Will you find it necessary to hurt Steve?” 

“No,” Loki said. “Not unless you make it so. I certainly have nothing against hurting you or your team, even if it hurts him, if you make it necessary.”

Natasha nodded. Then she said, “Steve said you could study science with Stark, and he could learn about magic.” 

“And show you my greatest strength?” Loki asked. 

“What do you have to lose?” Natasha asked. 

Loki glared at her. 

“You don’t have much,” Natasha said. “Interesting.” 

“Are you finished?” Loki asked. 

“You’re going to try to live a human life?” Natasha asked. “After living, what, hundreds of years as—?” 

“Stop,” Loki interrupted, clenching his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

Natasha nodded. “I don’t forgive you,” she said. “I’ll be watching you. Making sure you don’t screw this up. Steve believes in second chances, but I don’t believe in third chances. And he doesn’t deserve to be hurt.” 

“Fine,” Loki said. “Excellent. Very enlightening. Anything else?” 

Natasha’s expression softened, just a fraction. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said, and she walked past him and out of the apartment. 

Loki closed the door and sank down to the ground, the words like a knife. He took a deep breath. They were words. Just words. Not as invasive as thoughts. Not his words. He could cast them aside. They were just air with sound. 

He picked himself up and went to the window, where he could see people on the street below. He concentrated on them, on the snow piled up high against the sidewalk and around the sparse trees, on the glistening ice in the middle of the road. 

He sighed, and his breath frosted the window pane. He leaned forward to look at the patterns in the ice made by his involuntary reaction to the snow. 

It was like art. 

Once, this would have sickened him, a reminder of the monster he was. Now he had so much more than mere ice to remind him. He had seen and experienced much worse. 

The cold hurt less than the burn of fire. 

**

As literally as possible, Loki popped up in Steve’s bedroom right as he was ready for bed. He’d just gotten back from brushing his teeth, and Loki was standing where he hadn’t been before. 

It was almost expected. 

Loki was dressed rather plainly, no leathers, just a soft long-sleeved shirt and equally soft looking black pants. 

“I was about to go to sleep,” Steve said. 

“It’s early,” Loki told him. 

Steve checked his phone. “It’s midnight.” 

Loki lifted his shoulders in an approximation of a shrug, which made Steve feel something like amusement—another human gesture come from living here. 

“Do you sleep?” Steve added. 

Loki ignored him and pulled something from thin air. It took Steve a moment to realize that it was a pill bottle. He held it out so that Steve could take a closer look and said, “What is this?” 

Steve took the bottle from Loki’s hand and read the label. It was Advil. “It’s medicine for pain,” he said. “You don’t have this in-” He cut himself off. 

“No,” Loki answered quickly. “I have learned healing through magic. Not...is this science?” 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Biology. Chemistry. I’m not too familiar with it myself. Where’d you get it?”

“I found it,” Loki said, and didn’t elaborate. 

“Okay. Is that what you wanted to ask?” 

“No,” Loki said. His eyes swept across the room, and landed back on Steve. He hummed. “This is pleasant.” 

“I would hope so,” Steve laughed. “I call it home.” 

“Much different than the cell of a kept soldier,” Loki said. 

Steve frowned. That wasn’t what he meant, but Loki had moved past him and was sitting on the bed. He sat next to him because he couldn’t think of anything else to do that made sense. 

Loki looked up at the ceiling, and Steve sighed. “You’re not hiding, are you.” 

“Not exactly,” Loki said, a smirk forming on his features, and it was nice, to see some positive emotion on his face. “If they want to put a stop to it, let them.” He glanced at Steve. “Or would you rather not have them see me with you?” 

“It’s fine,” Steve said, knowing that despite Loki’s seemingly light mood the question itself was meant seriously. “So you came here to show them that you’re not leaving?” 

“Perhaps,” Loki said. “Are you tired?”

“A bit,” Steve said. “Like I said, I was going to sleep—”

“I’m tired,” Loki said. And he let himself fall back so he was lying on the bed. 

It was, perhaps, the weakest display of subtlety Steve had ever seen. He stood up and walked over to the other side of the bed, where he lay down next to Loki, who had straightened himself out to give Steve room. 

“After Hydra,” Steve said, lying on his back, “I was healed. Not just physically. I heal well anyway, and this was just a little faster. But that kind of thing causes nightmares. Flashbacks. I’ve seen it in others. And my memories are fuzzy at best. Like they’ve been dulled. I wake up but I’m not horrified. I can go back to sleep.” He turned onto his side to find Loki facing him, watching him intently. “Why did you do that?” 

“You know why,” Loki said quietly. 

“I wish I could do the same to you,” Steve said. 

Loki exhaled and turned on his back. “I deserve my memories,” he said. 

“Not all of them,” Steve said. Loki didn’t say anything. “Do you want to stay here tonight?” 

Loki turned back to Steve. “Yes,” he said, and closed his eyes. 

They fell asleep, and only woke up once. Loki seemed to have less difficulty falling back asleep than he had before. 

When Steve woke, Loki was still there, his back against Steve’s stomach like he was a puzzle piece meant to fit there. He was still asleep, and even though Steve couldn’t see his face, he imagined it absent of all the anger and despair and fear that so often marred his features since he’d been found in the Arctic. 

He took in the calm. He didn’t know how long he’d been lying there when he felt Loki shift, and then Loki turned and was looking at him, still a bit out of it. 

“Morning,” Steve said. 

“Is it,” Loki murmured. He seemed disinclined to move. Steve felt the same way. 

“I probably have things to do,” Steve said. 

“You probably do,” Loki agreed. There was some spark in his eyes that had been missing before. “A shame, then, that you’ll have to miss them.” 

“What?” Steve asked. “Why?” 

“I want to show you something,” Loki said. He closed his eyes. “Later, perhaps.” 

“We can’t stay in bed all day,” Steve pointed out. 

Loki opened his eyes again. “In time,” he said. 

In time turned out to be half an hour. Steve understood why Loki would want to stay in bed; it was comfortable, and he was calm, and that was a novelty for him. He hadn’t been that way in a long time. But he did manage to get out of bed and, still looking a bit tired (and Steve thought it was a tiredness that would never leave him), he teleported Steve to a field in the desert. 

“This is new,” Steve said when they got there. It was warm, not hot, luckily. There were no towns in sight, just sand extending to the horizon. 

“I thought you might appreciate it more than the ice,” Loki said. 

“So, is this your magic show?” Steve asked. “Because you’ve actually done that particular trick a few times.” 

“Traveling the hidden paths?” Loki said. “No. I want to show you the language of magic. Your science has a magic, from what I understand. Equations, math. Strings of letters and numbers that when put together mean something, and can turn into action. Magic is similar, but not the same.” 

Steve hadn’t thought about it like that. “So you don’t just do magic,” he said. “You study it.” 

“Of course,” Loki said, a hint of his old arrogance creeping into his voice. “Does anyone simply do science? Magic takes intelligence, and a certain amount of talent.” 

“I’m guessing the language of magic isn’t English,” Steve said. “Or math.”

“No,” Loki said. “It is many things. Most commonly, runes. Some have even been exposed to humans.” He made an elegant gesture with his hands and lines started carving themselves into the ground beneath them, forming what Steve recognized as individual characters of a language, even if he didn’t know what they were called or what they meant. 

“Do you think in that?” he asked in awe. 

“No,” Loki said. “And yes. It is...hard to explain. It helps me see how I can manipulate matter. Other languages are ancient.” He moved his hands again, and next to the runes a circle formed, with intricate symbols carved within the edges that reminded Steve of a maze. 

“That doesn’t look like words,” he said. 

“We made up a language,” Loki said, “to communicate what was around us. The universe has its own language. It is in nature. Sometimes, it is more obvious. This is a symbol that would be generated by magical technology.” 

“Magical technology,” Steve repeated. “Like the bifrost?” 

Loki inclined his head. “Very few leave symbols, but the more powerful ones do.”

It was beautiful. Steve wanted to draw it. He hadn’t had the urge to draw in a while, which he put down to distraction, but seeing this, he wanted to draw the symbols. Even more, he wanted to draw Loki using his magic to carve the very language that allowed him to understand how he did such things into the ground. 

“This is amazing,” he said. 

Surprise flitted across Loki’s face and was replaced with a rather understated look of pride. Not in himself, but in magic. “There are few who dedicate themselves to the study of magic,” he said. “It is rewarding, as I suppose your science is, to try to understand the universe.” 

“It’s amazing that you can even understand it a little,” Steve said. “I can’t.” 

Loki’s expression changed, and the pride fell away, leaving something raw as he looked at Steve. It wasn’t shock; it was almost longing. “You understand it better than most,” he said. “You have no need of a language.” 

Steve wanted to laugh, because that wasn’t true, but he couldn’t. Loki was entirely serious, and the way he said that, well, Steve couldn’t argue with it. He was stunned, though, because was that how Loki truly saw him? Did he really value whatever he thought Steve understood over the exactness of science that people like Tony praised?

He couldn’t speak. 

Loki moved closer to him and took his arm. “I’ve kept you long enough,” he said, and the desert fell away around them. 

Steve was left in Stark Tower, mind buzzing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for self harm, starting at the point where they fall asleep up until the section that begins with the next morning and Steve making tea. 
> 
> Also, I do want it to be known that Steve and Loki are both very out of their depths here, and...yeah. For Steve, it's hard to do (or to know) what's right in this situation, as it is for anyone in real life who knows anyone with mental illness. This isn't the picture of a fantastic relationship or anything like that, but I did want to show the struggle and how hard it is given the context of this story and Loki's experiences in it and I apologize if I didn't do that well. This chapter is partially taken from experiences I know of in my life. 
> 
> I'm rambling now. I hope you do enjoy it, difficult as it may be.

There were too many times when Steve was aware how little he could help Loki. Every time he saw Loki retreat into the world of nightmares. Every time Loki wouldn’t eat. Every time Loki woke up screaming. Every time Loki hesitated to do magic just in case he couldn’t control it. Every time Loki worried about Steve’s death. 

Every time Loki said he was fine. 

He wasn’t fine. 

Natasha noticed Steve’s worrying and commented on it, and when Steve told her what was wrong, she said, “Why not have him see a therapist?” 

Steve stared at her. “A therapist,” he repeated. 

“Nothing wrong with it,” Natasha said. “Clint’s been to one a few times after New York.”

“Do you know any good ones?” Steve asked. He was half joking. 

People in his time didn’t go to therapists. It was a new concept to him, one that Fury had suggested once right after Steve had emerged from the ice and one which Steve had denied because there was nothing wrong with him, it was everything else that had changed. It wasn’t until later that he realized having someone to talk to who didn’t need anything from him and wouldn’t judge him would have been helpful. 

But Loki barely told Steve anything, and when he did, it was painstakingly won information. And that was because he trusted Steve. Loki would not trust a stranger. 

It was still worth a shot. 

Natasha also pointed this out when Steve voiced his concerns. “Loki’s suffering from post traumatic stress, and sometimes people can deal with it on their own, and sometimes they need help,” she said. “You aren’t an expert, so maybe one can help him. And if it doesn’t, fine. Try something else.” 

She gave him the name of someone who knew about the stranger aspects of SHIELD but didn’t answer to them.

“Good luck,” she said. 

Steve would need it. 

**

“No,” Loki said as soon as Steve suggested a visit. 

“It would help,” Steve said. “Look, I’m not an expert on these things, and they know about coping mechanisms and maybe even medications and I know it’s hard, but-”

“No,” Loki repeated. His face was pale, pinched in anger. “What makes you think that I would trust a stranger with my greatest weaknesses?” 

“Sometimes that’s kind of liberating,” Steve said. 

“They will pass it to SHIELD,” Loki said, “or to your team. And then what? Where will I be left? How will this be helpful?” 

“I told you how,” Steve said. “You don’t have to. I just thought-”

“That I’m too weak to take care of this myself?” Loki cut him off. 

“No,” Steve said. “Not that. It isn’t about weakness or strength. You’re not weak if you need help.” 

Loki scoffed. “What do you know of weakness?”

Steve had told Loki about the time before the serum. He tried to keep the anger out of his voice as he asked, “Do you really want to go there?” 

“But that is the past,” Loki said. “And look at you now. So strong. So morally grounded. So put together.” 

“I wasn’t,” Steve said. “I had to mourn the loss of everyone I’ve known.”

“But you didn’t need help,” Loki said. 

“I didn’t take it,” Steve said. It was an effort to keep his voice calm, to remember why Loki was saying these things. “It was a choice. It’s there if you want it. If you don’t, fine.” 

“You didn’t take it,” Loki said, “because you didn’t trust a stranger. How, then, can you expect me to do the very thing you wouldn’t?” 

“It was a suggestion,” Steve said. “I’ll even go with you, if you want.” 

Loki disappeared. 

**

Two days went by, and Steve was regretting his suggestion to Loki. Clearly, Loki didn’t like the idea of someone else poking around in his thoughts, and Steve couldn’t exactly blame him for that. 

But he was worried, and he ended up at Loki’s apartment, knocking on the door. 

Loki opened the door, looking annoyed at Steve’s appearance. He let him enter anyway, and sat down on the couch clutching a bottle of vodka. 

Steve sat down next to him and said, “Look, I’m sorry about-”

“I know what you’re sorry about,” Loki said. He considered the bottle of vodka in his hands. 

“How much have you had?” Steve asked. 

“Memories fade,” Loki said, “whether by time or by external help, yet their absence doesn’t take away the inevitability of loneliness.” 

Steve frowned. 

“Look at this,” Loki said, and he conjured a glass full of vodka out of thin air. 

Steve made to grab it, but his hand went through. 

“Only an illusion,” Loki said. “You’ll find I’m good at those. I could not recreate the drink without knowing its exact composition.” 

“Neat trick,” Steve said, trying to calm himself down. For a moment, he’d feared that Loki could make himself an endless supply of potentially harmful materials.

“Convincing,” Loki said. His hand clenched the bottle tightly, and Steve imagined he was remembering something he rather wouldn’t. 

“Let me make dinner,” Steve said, standing up. “And I’ll stay with you.” 

Loki stared into the opening of his vodka bottle. Steve watched him wearily. 

Loki was clearly less weary, or at least he didn’t show it, because he took a large swig from the bottle a second later. 

“Dinner,” Steve repeated, trying not to worry. He went into the kitchen and made a nice pasta dish and called out a few pleasant conversation starters to Loki who, for the most part, was very quiet. 

It wasn’t until after dinner that the alcohol really kicked in. 

**

At first, nothing had changed, and Loki picked at his dinner and Steve watched him do it with the quiet desperation of someone who just wanted the person they cared about so much to get better. 

And then, after dinner, after Steve had washed the dishes and they had settled on the couch, things changed. 

It started when Loki rested his head on Steve’s shoulder, vodka bottle empty and forgotten on the floor, and then he began moving his whole body closer, until it became something like cuddling. Steve was surprised but didn’t say anything because Loki would likely move away if he did. 

And then he felt Loki’s breath hitch. Again. And again. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. 

“Yes,” Loki said thickly, and Steve reached up a hand to touch Loki’s cheek and it came away wet. 

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked. 

“I’m going to lose you,” Loki said. 

And it was strange, that Loki was weeping over this, because Loki had been upset about it before, but for him to just sit down and start weeping without any sort of prompting what-so-ever-

Steve didn’t know what to say. 

Loki suddenly braced his hands against Steve, pushing himself away. His cheeks were stained with tears but he looked angry. “You will tire of me soon enough.” 

“What?” Steve asked. 

Loki stood up and fled the room, and a few moments later Steve heard the bedroom door slam. 

Steve took a few minutes to himself before following Loki, who was sitting on the bed staring at the covers. He didn’t look up when Steve came in, nor did he look over when Steve sat next to him on the bed. 

“I think you had too much to drink,” Steve said. “We should go to sleep.” 

Loki glanced over at him. The tears were gone from his face, but he was looking at Steve with a strange expression, like he didn’t trust what Steve was saying. 

“I don’t need to sleep,” he said. 

“Yes you do,” Steve said. “We all do.” He lay down. After a moment, Loki joined him. 

“You’re sleeping too?” Loki asked. 

“Of course,” Steve said. 

Disbelief flashed across Loki’s face before he turned over, away from Steve, and pulled the covers up to his neck. 

Steve drifted into an uneasy sleep. 

**

Steve woke up to an empty bed and light coming out from under the closed door to the bathroom. He sat up, confused, and managed to pull himself to a standing position so that he could go over and knock on the door. 

He didn’t get a reply. 

“Loki,” Steve called. 

Something clattered to the ground. 

Steve pushed open the door. 

Loki was gripping the edges of the sink. It took Steve a moment to register that there was blood on the floor, and in the sink, and on Loki’s bare arms, and on the knife lying at Loki’s feet. 

Steve made to grab the knife and Loki moved. 

They collided, and Loki managed to get hold of the knife and he twisted out of Steve’s grip. Steve caught one of Loki’s wrists, sticky with blood, and cried, “What are you doing?” 

“I let them die!” Loki cried. “This is no less than what I deserve. Let go!” He wrenched his arm back, but Steve held fast. 

Loki made a swipe with the knife and snarled, “You blame me, too.” He missed, but Steve nearly fell over in dodging the blow. 

“I don’t blame you for anything!” he cried. 

“You do,” Loki said, “and you can never forgive me.” 

Steve grabbed Loki’s knife-hand and held fast, squeezing his wrist. Loki gasped and dropped the knife, which Steve kicked out of the door. 

“Listen to me,” Steve said. “Loki, it’s okay. It’s fine. I’m here, and I care.” 

Loki sagged against Steve, the fight suddenly gone out of him. Steve lowered him to the floor and began checking his injuries. 

There were many knife-wounds, most of them thin and luckily shallow and all of them located on Loki’s chest. Steve wet a towel and began wiping the blood off Loki’s skin, revealing the damage underneath. 

The sight made him feel sick, but what made him feel even worse was knowing that Loki thought he deserved it. He knelt down in front of Loki and pulled him close. Loki allowed himself to be pulled, like some sort of rag doll, and that scared Steve even more. 

He clung to Loki even tighter, and tried not to think about what might have happened had he not woken up. 

**

The next morning was spent in a daze. Loki slept, but Steve couldn’t. He made himself tea, which was hardly as calming as it usually was, and he tried to read one of Loki’s Shakespeare plays, but the words kept running into each other. He watched the sun rise, and Loki woke up without saying a word and Steve made him a cup of tea and Loki took it without complaint, holding it until the tea got cold. 

Steve took the cup away from him at some point, and Loki didn’t complain. Instead he stood up and went into the living room, where he curled up on the couch. Steve joined him, even put on the television in the hopes that it might help, but Loki seemed to be staring past it. 

At one point Steve asked if Loki wanted food, and Loki ignored him. Steve went to make lunch. When he returned to the living room, Loki was gone. 

He rushed into the bedroom to find Loki flipping through the book Steve had left on the bed, the one he’d tried and failed to read. He looked up at Steve’s entrance and frowned. 

“You scared me,” Steve explained. 

Loki’s brows drew together in confusion. “I merely left the room.” 

“You left the room last night too,” Steve said. “And you hurt yourself.” 

Loki paled. 

“You don’t remember,” Steve said. “Your chest.” 

Loki pressed a hand against his chest, covered with the cloth of a shirt, and winced. “I thought I slept the whole night,” he said, hoarsely. 

Steve shook his head. 

Loki crossed the room in a few steps and grabbed Steve’s shirt with surprising strength. “What did I say?” he hissed. 

Steve couldn’t say nothing. Loki was staring into his eyes with such intensity that he felt terribly exposed. “You told me that I blamed you,” he said. “I told you it wasn’t true.” 

“What else?” Loki snapped. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No,” Steve said. 

Loki scrutinized him and then stormed out of the room. 

**

Steve felt at a loss. 

Clearly, Loki had been horribly upset with Steve’s suggestion. But his reaction had overwhelmed Steve, scared him to the point where he was convinced he couldn’t do this on his own. 

“You want me to talk to your mind healer,” Loki said, sitting next to Steve after he’d calmed down. 

“Yes,” Steve said. “You scared me. I care about you, but I’m not qualified-”

“I am unfamiliar with the concept,” Loki said. He took a deep breath. “I can’t. You must understand. I can’t.” 

“Then stop trying to make yourself forget with alcohol,” Steve said. “Stop trying to hurt yourself. Stop punishing yourself.” He knew he sounded harsh, angry, even. He couldn’t stop it. He had been terrified. 

“Talking to a stranger won’t help,” Loki snapped. “I am trying. Forgetting helps.” 

“You can’t make yourself forget completely,” Steve said, “and you can’t be dependent on alcohol.” 

“So I must sit here and allow my memories to consume me?” Loki asked, a touch of hysteria leaking into his voice. 

“No,” Steve said. “Just—find a different way to distract yourself until you can deal with it.” 

“What do you suggest?” 

And there, Steve realized, he was at a loss. 

“Of course,” Loki murmured. “The great captain is full of advice and no answers.” 

“I’ll think of something,” Steve said. 

“If it is anything as brilliant as your previous idea, I can’t wait,” Loki muttered. 

“You didn’t even try it,” Steve said. 

Loki stood up. “I didn’t need to,” he said. He glanced away from Steve and added, “Are you—did I really not hurt you?” 

“No, you didn’t hurt me.” 

Loki nodded. “Then you should go.” 

“If I had left last night, you would have hurt yourself more,” Steve said. 

“You can’t watch over me forever,” Loki reminded him, agitated. “You are not my keeper. And you will be long gone before I am.”

“I’m not—” Steve took a deep breath, calming himself before he would say anything to anger Loki further. “Just, I’d feel better if-”

“I could have harmed you,” Loki said. 

“You didn’t.” 

“You can’t stay here forever,” Loki said. “You have a life outside of me.” 

Steve stood up. He didn’t want to leave, but he also knew he wouldn’t win this argument. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. 

“Yes,” Loki said. 

Steve left. 

**

Loki sat on the bed, closed his eyes, and tried to recall memories from the previous night. He failed. He only remembered the sharp burn of the drink he swallowed repeatedly. That memory turned his stomach now. 

He hated that he had done something and had absolutely no memory of it later. He hated that it was the wrong thing banished from his memory. He knew that Asgard’s burning would forever be etched in his mind, and nothing could take that away. 

He didn’t think Steve’s suggestions came from anything but the goodness of his heart, but Steve was different. Steve was transient. Loki shouldn’t care about him, shouldn’t let Steve care about him. But he did. 

He closed his eyes and placed a hand against his chest, feeling the rough ridges of knife wounds that he’d said he deserved. Loki could not disagree with his intoxicated self there. He felt he deserved this and worse. He considered healing the wounds with his magic, then decided against it. 

Steve wanted Loki better. And Loki couldn’t promise him anything. And the more he couldn’t promise Steve, the more agitated and disappointed Steve would become. 

As much as Loki hated to admit it, he didn’t want to lose Steve. 

He’d always been a good liar. Perhaps he could give Steve what he wanted and hide how broken he really was for the times when he was alone. 

And perhaps, if he went along with whatever Steve came up with next, it might work. He doubted it, he hated the glimmer of hope inside him that would likely be crushed, but perhaps.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay! My masters program is really kicking into high gear and I'm still adjusting to living in another country (which mostly means, trying to figure out things like money and doctors and what to do besides assignments.) The good news is, I've finished writing this, so all that's left is the edit. The bad news (or good news? depends on who you are) is that the next chapters are sad. Like really sad. I think it was always going to end it tears, though. 
> 
> Anyway, this chapter has a trigger warning for self harm. The middle section is okay, though, because it's science.

Loki found himself standing in front of the mirror, running his fingers along the scars on his chest. 

They were surprisingly intricate and organized, for wounds inflicted in the heat of emotion. Loki didn’t remember making them, and he certainly didn’t remember what he had in mind when driving the knife through his skin. Other than anger and self-loathing. 

But these were not random. The scars formed patterns. Loki hadn’t been slashing at his skin like one might in rage; he’d been carving it. 

He remembered the ridges along his face, running down his neck and the same ones on his hands and arms, ones he saw in his nightmares. The marks of a Frost Giant. 

Perhaps his hand had simply been following the natural ridges of his body, hidden by illusion. The action came from emotion, but the pattern from instinct. 

Loki snarled and drove a fist into the mirror. 

Glass rained down on top of his hand and wrist, shards stuck in his knuckles, drawing blood, and more glass fell into the sink. Now there were many reflections, very few of them Loki’s and quite a number of them stained with blood. 

Loki picked the glass out of his injured hand, shaking slightly. He couldn’t let Steve see this. Steve would worry. 

With this in mind, Loki healed over the injuries on his hand completely like he hadn’t with the scars on his chest, and then used his magic to make the mirror whole again. 

He looked at his face in the mirror and smiled. 

No one would ever know that the glass had been shattered and covered in blood. 

**

Any plans involving outside help were shelved. 

Loki was clearly agitated by the suggestion of talking to a stranger, so Steve decided to help him through distraction. He decided to take Loki to Tony’s lab. 

He didn’t tell Tony first. After all, Tony often said it was better to ask for forgiveness after the fact, a paraphrase of a pearl of wisdom that Steve didn’t necessarily agree with. But for now, he would take it to heart. 

He also thought that Loki would be amused with taking Stark by surprise. 

Still, he expected some protest, so he was a bit shocked when Loki merely said, “Fine” and allowed Steve to take him to Stark Tower. 

Predictably, Tony was in his lab. As they neared the door Loki said, “You did not tell him.” 

Steve grinned sheepishly. “No. No I didn’t.” 

Loki returned the grin. “His machine will not be able to sense our arrival.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. Tony would have fits about Loki controlling Jarvis, but for now he just said, “Lead on.” 

Loki made a gesture with his hand and the door to the labs slid open. He and Steve stepped inside—

Tony was sitting at one of his work stations, a pile of metal surrounding him. He seemed to be welding two pieces together, and the whole room looked more like a car mechanic’s shop than a scientific lab. 

“I’m busy,” Tony said without looking up. 

“Don’t let us disturb you,” Loki said, moving forward to inspect a stray piece of metal. 

Tony looked up, whipped off his protective goggles and stared from Loki to Steve and back again. Loki ignored him and Steve hadn’t stopped looking sheepish. 

“What,” Tony said, “is this?” 

“This is your science?” Loki asked, tossing the scrap metal aside. “No wonder humans are so primitive.” 

“I’ll have you know that Stark Industries is the most advanced—wait,” Tony shook his head. “I’m not having this argument. Why are you here? In this lab? How—?” 

“Magic,” Loki said.

“Fuck you,” Tony snapped. “Steve?” 

“I thought it was a good idea,” Steve said. He gave Tony an imploring look. Tony glared back at him, but he couldn’t hold onto his anger for long. He rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Loki. 

“If you’re gonna insult our pathetic science then I don’t see the point of you being here,” he said. “But if you want to learn something—”

“Perhaps,” Loki said. “I have heard that your scientists have specialities. Areas in which they are expert. What is yours?” 

Tony leaned against his work station. “Engineering. Physics, I guess, if you wanna get technical. But I make things. Sources of energy.” 

“Weapons,” Loki said. 

“For myself and no one else,” Tony said, expression tightening. “I think you might be more interested in the energy.” 

“The light inside your chest,” Loki said. 

Tony tapped his chest. It didn’t make a sound. “Don’t have it anymore. But the technology is still around. It’s powering this building. Arc reactor energy. I think your equivalent would be...the Tesseract.” 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “You would presume to have created something as strong as the Tesseract?” 

“I’m really good,” Tony said. 

“Show me.” 

Tony led Loki and Steve over to a computer station, where he pulled up screens and images that surrounded them rather than staying in one place, as most computers tended to do. Tony’s technology was special, and it never ceased to amaze Steve. 

Tony was showing them a model of how his new element was structured, a sphere made of lines connecting atoms, things that Steve felt like he could never understand. He was amazed that Tony and Loki could see the universe this way and then manipulate it to do the things they wanted. He almost felt a bit jealous, that he couldn’t share this with Loki.

Loki’s face was awash in the blue of the light coming from Tony’s projections, his eyes darting through each and every line that connected each part of the molecule Tony had created. 

“Great, isn’t it?” Tony asked. 

Loki didn’t look away. “It is impressive, for a human,” he said. 

“I think he just complimented you,” Steve said. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s impressive for anyone. No one else has been able to do this. To create a new source of energy. That’s why I’m the best.” 

“So humble,” Loki said. 

“I think I deserve to be proud,” Tony said. 

Truth be told, Steve was impressed as well. He didn’t understand it, but he knew what arc reactor energy could do, and he knew that Tony had done something groundbreaking. 

“How’s it compare to the Tesseract?” Tony asked. 

Loki tore his eyes away from the images before him and said, “It doesn’t.” 

Tony frowned. “They’re both sources of power.” 

“The Tesseract is more than that,” Loki said. “As is magic. Both of them tap deeper into the fabric of the universe than your arc reactor energy does.” 

“How?” Tony asked. 

“The explanation is long.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Much of it is in language you don’t understand,” Loki said. 

“I can learn,” Tony told him. “I’m smart. A lot of us are. You might not think so but, you know, Thor did so we can’t all be—”

“I do,” Loki interrupted. 

Tony seemed to realize what he’d said a second later. “Wait, listen. I’m just saying-”

“If you want to know, I can tell you,” Loki said, “but it would take years you don’t have.” 

Tony threw Steve a helpless look, but Steve only had more helplessness to give him in return. 

“I could start,” Tony said after a moment. 

“Perhaps,” Loki said. “Another time, Stark.” Then he turned around and swept out of the room. 

Steve muttered, “Sorry,” to Tony and followed Loki. 

He managed to catch up with Loki on the street, tried to grab his arm to get him to slow down, but Loki merely tore away from Steve’s grip and kept going. 

“Loki,” Steve said, matching his pace, “I thought you were interested-”

“I don’t want to be reminded of Thor at every turn,” Loki snapped. 

“It was a mistake,” Steve said. “Tony didn’t mean it.” 

“Stark should want nothing more than to hurt me,” Loki said. “Why did you take me there?” 

“Because you were interested!” Steve cried. Loki stopped and stared at him. “For five minutes, you were genuinely absorbed in what Tony had to show you. I think you need that sort of interaction.” 

Loki vanished, and Steve cursed. A few people kept clear out of his way as they passed, but Steve didn’t care. It was frustrating, and he’d truly thought he’d found Loki’s perfect distraction. Something that would make him happy. 

It wasn’t Tony’s fault. It wasn’t Loki’s fault. It was the fault of something that Steve couldn’t get rid of, couldn’t bring to justice. It was out of his hands, and that was the most frustrating part. 

**

Loki appeared in Steve’s apartment later that evening when Steve was making dinner. Steve hadn’t even noticed, concentrated on his cooking as he was, until Loki spoke. 

“I was interested,” Loki said. “I was intrigued.” 

Steve turned to look at him. “It’s okay,” he said. “Just—do you want to eat?” 

Loki glanced at Steve’s cooking, some sort of vegetable stir-fry, and then back up at Steve’s face. He didn’t answer. 

Steve said, “Tony meant no harm.” 

“I know,” Loki said. “He should have. As you all should have.” 

“No,” Steve said. 

Loki moved closer to inspect Steve’s cooking. 

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. It was a question that never got a good answer, not from Loki, but he asked it in the hopes that Loki might one day say yes. 

“Are you?” Loki returned. “Does it not bother you, that you can’t understand this science or magic?”

It did, and Loki had cut to the core of something Steve had been trying not to think about. He hated being jealous. It wasn’t a good feeling for him. 

“It does,” Steve said slowly. “Does it bother you?” 

“No,” Loki said. “If it did, I would be bothered by almost everyone. But you appreciate it, do you not?”

Steve nodded. “I think it’s fascinating.” 

Loki nodded. “That is all that matters.” 

Steve returned to stirring his vegetables. After a moment he said, “You never answered my question.” 

“Would you like to share a drink with me?” Loki asked instead. 

Steve turned off the stove and glanced at Loki. “Yeah,” he said. “Drink and dinner.”

Loki smiled at him, and something about it felt hollow. 

**

Later that night, Steve was asleep, and Loki had pretended to be asleep to assuage Steve’s worries. He’d succeeded, because Steve had no idea he was awake right now. 

Loki slipped out of bed and walked into the kitchen. He found a bottle of vodka and considered it for a while. If he drank enough, he might be able to rest. If he smashed the bottle into pieces, he could use the pain of glass cut into the skin. The punishment he felt he deserved. 

He did neither of these things. He was awake, but for Steve’s sake he felt the need to not lie, to make a true attempt at being better. Steve had tried today to distract him, to give him something constructive. It had worked, too, until Stark’s tongue got the better of him. 

But Loki couldn’t recoil at the mention of Thor and Asgard forever. He couldn’t continue lying and pretending, because these days his lies tended to crumble under any sort of pressure. Steve would find out, and he would be disappointed. 

Loki replaced the bottle and returned to the bed, taking what warmth Steve had to offer him. 

It wasn’t enough. He feared it never would be. He couldn’t sleep. His nightmares were waiting for him. 

But he could be there, next to Steve, when the morning came.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna get really sad real quick. Second to last chapter.

A scream forced itself out of Loki’s mouth before he could do anything to stop it. His throat bled with the force of it, and he couldn’t stop, because he was gone, Steve was gone, and he hadn’t saved him, he hadn’t done enough—

Loki sat up, gasping. Steve was asleep next to him. He didn’t wake up. Perhaps because this time, Loki hadn’t been screaming out loud. 

He wouldn’t tell Steve, either. For all that he could live in the present during the day, when he slept his nightmares came back. He’d only gotten better at hiding them. 

They alternated between the horror of Asgard falling, of Thor’s dead body, and of scenarios in which Steve died and Loki couldn’t save him. Every aspect of fragile mortality played out in Loki’s dreams, and Loki had always had a vivid imagination. 

It was a fear he could mostly control during the day, like he could mostly control when his memories of Asgard surfaced. Except Steve was right in front of him where Asgard wasn’t; he was present, not fading, and he led a life where danger lurked not far behind. He’d fought a few enemies since Hydra, and won each time, but Loki felt sick until he was back, and had to convince himself that Steve had actually survived and he wasn’t just weaving illusions for himself out of magic to stave off the despair. 

Sometimes he had to touch Steve, kiss him, place a hand on his arm, lay pressed against him just to be assured that he was real. Because Loki knew how well he could craft illusions and lies. And he didn’t want this to be a lie. Not at all. 

He closed his eyes. He remembered how freely Thor had loved. He remembered when he was young and used to love freely, too. And he felt that now his love was marred with the ruins of his past and the fears of his future. Family, friend, lover—all he could never love freely again. And it hurt. 

Loki pressed himself closer to Steve and waited for morning. 

**

Steve and Loki fell asleep with each other more often than not, now. Sometimes in Loki’s apartment. Other times in Stark Tower. It had become so normal that Steve would have thought something amiss if they were apart for the night. 

He never thought he’d feel that about anyone since the ice. And Loki was the least likely person he’d thought he’d feel it with. 

The present had never pulled punches in surprising him. 

It was after one of these nights when they fell asleep in Steve’s room that they were awoken by alarms and an alert from Jarvis. And, worryingly, the sound of explosions in the background. 

Steve immediately jumped out of bed, leaving Loki with the covers undone and the cold seeping in. As he gathered his things, got ready for battle, Loki slowly stood up and made his way over to the window. 

Steve hadn’t even looked, but Loki could only stare. 

Outside, the city was a mess. Smoke stained the blue sky black and gray, and fires lit parts of the skyline orange, yellow, and red. 

Loki couldn’t move. This was a nightmare. This was his nightmares. His memories come to life. Except this was not Asgard. It was Earth. 

“I thought they were dead,” he said. 

Steve wasn’t paying attention. He was talking to Jarvis. Their voices faded into the background, the sound of explosions and destruction taking precedence. 

Then, Steve’s hand grasped Loki’s arm, and Loki jerked and spun around to face him. 

Steve held up his hands. “Are you okay?” 

Loki stared at him. 

“I’ll be fine,” Steve said. “It’s just Hydra. They teamed up with Doom as revenge for what happened to their base.” 

Distantly, Loki realized that Steve was talking about what he’d done to them. But he was too kind to say it directly. 

“I’ll be back,” Steve said. He was concerned, but conflicted. He moved forward and cupped Loki’s face in his hands, a gesture Loki hadn’t received in...he couldn’t remember when or if someone had ever done that to him. Steve’s warm hands cupped his cheeks and for a moment, the sound of explosions disappeared. “Be careful,” he said, and then he kissed Loki on the lips. “It’ll be okay.” And then he was gone. 

Loki stood there long after Steve had left. Something didn’t feel right. Hydra wanted revenge. Hydra wanted revenge on Steve because they’d captured him and then their base had been destroyed. 

“I’m sorry,” Loki said to the empty room. And then he vanished. 

**

On the ground, it was chaos. There were Hydra agents and Doombots combined, trying to hurt civilians and taking advantage of the panic caused by the bombs they’d detonated earlier. The Doombots seemed to be concentrating on causing more damage to buildings. 

The epicenter of all this, SHIELD had figured out, was in Grand Central Station, newly rebuilt and the staging area for the largest hostage situation New York City had seen. The place was swarming with Hydra agents, who were blocking each of the numerous entrances into and out of Grand Central’s main concourse. 

They wanted to draw in the Avengers. 

Steve went with Clint and Natasha to spring the trap, because it was a trap, and they all knew it. Tony and the Hulk, along with SHIELD agents, were trying to contain the mess going on throughout the rest of the city. A few SHIELD agents were also headed to Grand Central, but not enough to make other people notice. 

Their main objective was to create enough of a distraction so that the hostages could break free. 

It should have been fine. Steve was who they wanted, and Clint and Natasha were expert negotiators (more Natasha than Clint, but still.) They were on guard, of course, but when they entered the concourse, all hell broke loose. 

They had gone in through the train platforms that ran north out of the station, coming out on one of the upper level gates that exited right onto the concourse. Natasha, Steve, and Clint each grabbed a guard standing close to that gate entrance. They weren’t using them for negotiation. They were using them as protection from bullets. They held no illusions that Hydra cared about the lives of any of its field agents, or that Doom cared about anyone at all. 

“Let these people go,” Steve still said, for good measure, “and we’ll make this easy.” 

The agents started shooting, and Clint muttered, “or not” before ducking behind the agent he was holding, who had now gone limp. 

Natasha was returning fire. Steve dropped his agent, who fell, and brought his shield in front of him. People were running, screaming, but the Hydra agents didn’t seem to care that they were escaping. They had what they wanted. For that, Steve was grateful. 

Well, he was. Until the agents swarmed on them. Then he wished he’d had another plan. 

He could hear Natasha calling for Stark with as much desperation as she would allow to creep into her voice (barely any, but enough.) Clint had been shot in the arm, and Steve threw his shield, knocking out a few soldiers. The shield struck a nearby wall and Steve had his arm outstretched to catch it, when there was a deafening explosion. 

Steve was thrown off his feet, and he landed on his back, hitting the granite floor with an audible crack. The nearest wall had exploded. He tried to get up, but his right leg was bleeding heavily. A pool of blood had already begun to spread over the shiny floor, and Steve was pretty sure he could see bone. 

And two Hydra agents were coming at him. 

A shot rang through the air. Steve felt a searing pain in his stomach. 

They’d shot him. 

He brought a shaking hand to the wound and pulled it away. His breath caught, and he coughed up blood. He shouldn’t have been surprised, they were in battle, but he was still shocked. 

He had promised Loki he would come back. 

He had a gun. He had a gun and he would fight to get out of here. He reached for his weapon and came away empty. 

It had been knocked off him in the explosion. 

The agents were almost upon him, and they were aiming at his head. 

Two objects flew through the air, and then sliced through both agents’ necks. The agents fell, blood spurting in arcs of red. When they hit the ground, Steve saw that the objects that had killed them were daggers. He turned his head—

Loki was there. 

He was in his leathers, lacking the gold adornments of armor. Already he had another knife in his hand. 

Another agent ran towards him and Loki threw his knife; that agent fell with the dagger sticking straight out of his heart. 

Loki continued to move forward, past Steve. His expression showed something different, something dark and a bit cruel that Steve hadn’t seen in a long time and hoped never to see again. 

His voice wouldn’t work. 

Loki reached the center of the concourse just in time for a Doombot to crash through one of the ceiling-high windows, spraying glass all over the place. Loki either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. Instead he pulled something out of thin air. Something blue and glowing. 

It looked like the Tesseract. 

It wasn’t the Tesseract. It was a darker, more solid shade of blue, and it was larger. Loki gripped it in two hands, holding it close to his stomach. He faced the gates, where the majority of the fighting was taking place, and aimed. 

Clint and Natasha were smart enough to get out of the way, and luckily fast enough. The blue thing in Loki’s hands released a blast of what looked like cold air—and it was, because everything it touched froze solid. 

Clint and Natasha were forced out of the concourse. Loki was being extremely thorough, working his way towards the opposite end and then moving back across, catching a few strays. Steve could only watched, mesmerized, as the cold air created a strange and eerie collection of ice sculptures. 

Then, abruptly, it stopped. 

Steve turned his head to see a Doombot, perhaps the one from before, perhaps one Loki had missed, closing in on Loki’s prone body, lying on the ground. He wanted to shout, but when he opened his mouth and drew breath, he coughed up blood. 

Loki turned onto his back, the blue object still in his grasp, and froze the Doombot. Then, he made the object disappear and turned onto his stomach again. 

Steve tried to move, forgetting, for a moment, about his injuries. His vision went white. 

Somehow, he ended up staring at the ceiling. The replica of the concourse’s constellation ceiling looked much the same as it had before the invasion of New York. If Steve hadn’t known it was destroyed, he would’ve thought it the same exact one. 

His throat felt thick, and he tasted blood, and he felt strangely cold. 

And those fake stars would be the last thing he saw. 

A hand, then, cold, and shouting. Loki’s voice. And fade to black. 

**

Steve was lying in a puddle of blood slowing spreading out on the marble floor, turning everything red, and Loki’s hands fluttered uselessly above him, unable to stem the bleeding. 

“Steve,” Loki hissed, “stop this. Don’t close your eyes-”

Steve blinked, slowly, and then coughed up more blood. His eyes closed again and Loki snarled and shook him by the shoulders. 

If only his magic could be of use, but Loki had never been good at healing, and it was weakened. Loki had his own wound, bleeding and throbbing and sending spikes of pain throughout his body. A gash in his stomach, arcing up to his chest, from the Doombot. 

“Steve!” Loki screamed, and he tried to will the magic to the wound, but light just flashed uselessly from his hands, and he was useless, and-

“He’s gone,” said a voice from behind him, and a hand touched his arm, and Loki whipped around to find Agent Romanov leaning over him. He lurched forward so that he was covering Steve’s body, one of his hands pressing into the wound, trying to stop the now-sluggish blood from flowing. 

And that’s when Romanov’s hands took hold of his shoulders and started pulling back. 

Loki’s vision started to fade as he struggled, screaming, to stay where he was, to stay with Steve. He couldn’t say anything, not anything coherent, but he wanted her to know that if she let him, if she gave him a chance, he could—

“He’s gone,” Romanov was shouting in his ear. “His heart stopped-”

“The ice,” Loki gasped. “He came back before, he’ll do it again. He’s just-”

“Gone,” Natasha insisted, and this time she managed to pull Loki backwards, away from Steve, away from the blood, and Loki tried to lurch out of her grip but his limbs wouldn’t obey. They felt strange, tingly and numb, and his head was spinning and he couldn’t see properly-

People were saying things to him, but he couldn’t hear anymore. His vision narrowed, and the last thing he saw before he passed out was Steve’s blood-soaked body on the floor of the station, his face white as ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another warning for self-harm. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's read, reviewed, kudo'd, bookmarked, ect. I hope you've enjoyed it!

Loki woke up to the feeling of soft blankets covering his body. He kept his eyes closed. A nightmare. The blood, the train station, it was all a nightmare. 

He reached over and felt his hand catch on the edge of the bed, and thin air. 

Loki rolled over to his other side and pain shot through him from his stomach upwards. But no—that injury was a nightmare, too. He let his arm stretch forward, and felt nothing except air and the other edge of the bed. 

This wasn’t his bed. Or Steve’s. It was a bed made for one. 

Loki opened his eyes. 

The room was too bright, but when his vision cleared he recognized it for what it was: a hospital room. He tossed the blanket off his body and saw that bandages covered his torso. 

He felt sick. 

He tried to scramble out of the bed, towards the door, but his legs betrayed him and then someone’s hands were on his arms and he tried to pull away, but he couldn’t, and—

“Loki.” That was Natasha’s voice. Calm. Emotionless. 

“Where’s Steve?” Loki asked. His voice sounded hoarse. 

Natasha didn’t say anything. He whirled around to face her, only to see that her expression was like a mask. 

“Where is he?” Loki demanded. 

“You were injured,” she said. 

Loki felt a white hot spike of anger. She was withholding information from him. She was lying. And she didn’t give anything away. 

“Tell me,” he growled. 

“Steve was also injured,” Natasha said. “His condition is...uncertain.” 

Loki sagged against the bed. He could feel his limbs start shaking. He remembered Natasha telling him that Steve was gone. He remembered Steve looking like a corpse, but if there was a chance, maybe if his magic had worked, or if the mortals had been able to utilize their science—

Maybe he wasn’t completely useless. 

“When can I see him?” he asked. 

“When he stabilizes,” Natasha said. “And when you heal a bit more. We need you to stay in bed for now. Otherwise you’ll reopen your wound.” 

Loki nodded. The sooner he could see Steve, the better. He climbed gingerly back into the bed. He couldn’t stop shaking, and he clutched the blanket over his body harder than was necessary. 

Natasha looked him over and said, “Dr. Banner will be in momentarily to check on you.” She moved forward, grabbed a cup of water from the bedside table, and handed it to Loki, who took it with shaking hands and downed the contents. 

She took the cup back, and Loki found himself feeling strange again. Like he was slipping. 

He was unconscious by the time Natasha left the room. 

**

“We have to tell him,” Tony said. 

Natasha sat across from him, looking at her hands. They were folded in front of her, resting on the counter. A cup of coffee had been placed in front of her as well, but she ignored it. She hadn’t slept in days. Coffee wouldn’t change anything. 

Tony looked terrible. Like he’d been destroying things and crying. Clint looked no better, and Bruce was with Loki and didn’t seem to be willing to talk. 

“If we tell him, he’ll have a complete break,” Natasha said. “He was hysterical when we pulled him away. He’s not been stable.” 

“He’s not an idiot,” Clint said. “He’ll find out.” 

Natasha sighed. She knew all this. She knew Loki could only be lied to for so long. But it was a lie he wanted to believe. He’d gone with it so easily. 

She wished she could do the same, at times.

“He might kill us, though,” Clint added. “I mean, Steve’s the only one he really talks to.” 

“I pissed him off last time I saw him,” Tony said. 

“He should be healed first,” Natasha said. “Otherwise he’ll hurt himself even more. Possibly kill himself.” 

Clint looked away. Tony made a frustrated noise. “We weren’t prepared for this,” he said. 

Natasha nodded. She agreed. They were all mourning Steve’s death, and to have to deal with someone else, a former enemy, mourning the exact same thing—it was hard. 

She remembered a conversation with Loki, her only one after he’d come to Earth the second time. She’d told him not to hurt Steve. 

He’d kept his word. He’d tried to save him. 

And Steve, inadvertently, had hurt him. 

She wished it had been the other way around. 

**

The week passed in a strange haze for Loki. He could barely stay awake, and when he was awake, he would start by reaching out for Steve. But Steve wouldn’t be there, and he wouldn’t be in his bedroom. He would be in the strange hospital room with only Bruce Banner and Natasha Romanov to keep him company.

Each day, he asked where Steve was, and each day they told him that Steve was recovering, and that Loki could see him in time. Either when Loki recovered enough, or when Steve was in stable condition. Then they would give him water to drink, or food that he could barely eat, and he would fall asleep again. 

There was a part of his brain that kept remembering the amount of blood and the icy cast of Steve’s skin and Natasha saying “he’s gone” over and over and the feeling of warm blood pouring over his hands from Steve’s gaping wound and he’d want to yell at Bruce and Natasha and demand proof that Steve was, in fact, recovering. 

But then he would become too tired. His mind would slip. He could barely form words and then he fell into a sleep devoid of dreams and memories. 

And it was nice. It was the first time he’d truly rested in so long. Save for those moments of panic, of dread, and the strange feeling of loss that would come over him when he remembered that Steve wouldn’t be next to him, it was nice. He could have stayed there. 

But of course, it couldn’t last. 

**

One day, Natasha gave him water and food and he didn’t finish it all, but he also didn’t fall asleep when he was done. Natasha sat on the edge of his bed and watched him, and Loki played with his hands and tried to form his constantly fleeting thoughts into words. 

He wanted to ask her something, but he was afraid of the answer. 

“Your wound is healed,” Natasha said. “Bruce found a few scars on you as well. Recent ones, not from the fight.” 

The mirror. Shards of glass raising blood from the skin. Blood on the floor in the station, Steve’s body drained of it. 

The image was too sharp. It hadn’t been that way in days. 

“I want to see him,” Loki said. 

“Loki,” Natasha said, and there was a flash of something in her expression. Sorrow. Grief. Loki saw it and felt dizzy. 

Natasha said, “He died.” 

The room spun. The blood, everywhere, came back unbidden. But no—Loki had to have saved him. His magic had to have been good enough to keep Steve alive until the mortals could get to him. Otherwise—

He’d failed. Like he had in Asgard. Like he always had. 

He’d failed and he couldn’t even keep Steve safe. The one person he had—

Steve had told him, that morning, not to worry. 

Steve had lied. 

Loki had lied, too. He’d promised not to hurt Steve, but he’d let him die. 

He lurched forward, meaning to grab Natasha by the arm. “Let me see him,” he snarled, but Natasha was faster and had dodged him. 

“There’s nothing to see,” Natasha said. 

Because Steve was nothing. Steve was dead. 

Loki retched, and vomited over the side of the bed what little he’d taken in. He felt like he was being turned inside out, wrung dry, as the retches turned into sobs that shook his whole body. He dug his nails into his arms, drawing blood, feeling pain, but it was not enough, not when his chest felt like it was being scraped with knives, not when he wanted to tear himself in two—

Natasha’s hands felt like fire on his skin, burning him, but not as much as the white hot pain he felt inside that needed to get out. He screamed and choked and sobbed and screamed again in the hopes that he might tear himself apart, but it only left him raw and spent and shivering on a hospital bed. 

And still that aching pain was in his chest, crawling up his throat, wanting out of his skin, begging for release. 

**  
He woke up and opened his eyes and expected to see Steve asleep next to him, or awake and watching him with a fond smile on his face. 

Steve was never there, and Loki was in a hospital room, and every time he remembered why, he screamed until someone came running into the room to subdue him. 

**  
They took sharp objects out of the room.

Loki was inventive. He found new ways to carve lines in his skin so that he could see the blood well up. For a moment, it eased the pressure of the constant aching that seemed to fill him. Only for a moment. He knew it would not end until his blood covered the floor like Steve’s had. It was what he deserved, and it was the only thing that would stop the pain. 

Someone found him before he could spill too much blood. Always. And then they started hiding things. 

Loki could have used his magic, but it escaped him. Perhaps he wasn’t ready for that, or perhaps his magic was still concentrated on healing his injury, even though the gash on his abdomen had become a pink scar. 

Perhaps it was the drugs laced in Loki’s food and water during that first week of recovery. 

So Loki stopped accepting food and water. 

Eventually he was hooked up to a device that brought water into his veins, but he kept tearing it out. They would poison him, and he needed a clear mind. 

It occurred to him that this might be their form of punishment. That they blamed him. It was fitting, then, to allow Loki no escape. To make him remember every morning that Steve was dead when he’d forgotten in the night. 

He’d almost rather deal with the nightmares than the fresh pain of loss upon each waking. 

And when he did remember, the image of Steve’s dead body, surrounded by blood, haunted him throughout the day, resurfacing when he least expected it. 

This could not go on. 

**

Three weeks and it still hadn’t gotten any easier. 

Natasha visited Loki almost every day. It pained her to do so, to see how thin he was, the dark circles under his eyes, his refusal of anything that they had to offer. She’d once asked him if he wanted to talk and he glared at her. 

His attempts to hurt himself had stopped, but they had been the hardest to deal with. She knew what it was like, to want to punish yourself. And yet, she didn’t feel qualified to help Loki. She herself was still grieving. 

Each morning she walked into Loki’s room and saw him on that bed, expression carefully blank, and they didn’t speak to each other aside from a few quick words. She knew Loki was hiding something. And again, she felt at a loss. 

This time, when she walked into Loki’s room, he was watching her. 

“Good morning,” she said, pulling a chair over to sit at his bedside. 

Loki watched her for a moment, his gaze uncomfortably piercing. Then he said, quietly, “Who did it?” 

Natasha didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. “You were there,” she said. 

“Who did it?” Loki repeated. 

It was like something had switched on in his head, and he’d latched onto it and didn’t dare to let go. Natasha waited a moment before she said, “Dr. Doom. And Hydra.” 

Loki nodded. He didn’t react, at least not in a visible way Natasha could see. And that disturbed her, because she could always see. 

She knew he was planning. The problem was, she didn’t feel terribly inclined to stop him. She hated them for what they’d done to Steve. 

When he’d had no one left, Loki had come to see Steve as a lifeline. She could imagine how he felt, but she didn’t want to. 

“Thank you,” Loki said, after an uncomfortably long pause. 

Natasha nodded and stood up. “Eat something,” she said. “Don’t do this to yourself.” 

Loki just gave her a blank look, and Natasha suppressed a shiver as she looked back at him. 

He was unreachable. 

So she turned and walked out of the room. 

**

The next morning, when Natasha walked into Loki’s room, it was empty. 

“Jarvis,” she said sharply, “why didn’t you tell me Loki was gone?” 

“I have been tampered with,” Jarvis said. 

Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “How long ago did this happen?” 

A pause. “I would estimate half an hour,” Jarvis said. 

“Shit.” Natasha took out her phone and started dialing, but stopped half way through.

She knew where Loki was. 

She was out of Stark Tower minutes later. 

**  
There was blood everywhere. 

Soaking into Loki’s clothes, leaving them dark, heavy and unpleasantly wet. Staining the silver armor that covered Loki’s forearms, shoulders, and chest. Slicked onto his pale skin so he could no longer see himself in any color but shades of red. 

He felt exhausted. 

There were bodies everywhere. Each one of them could have been Steve. 

Hydra had set up a new headquarters in Doom’s castle. There had been bots, and those were easy to destroy, but then there were people, and now Loki was drowning in their blood and they looked so much like Steve when he’d died—

He wanted to be sick, but he’d already been ill several times and there was nothing left. 

His knives were scattered, some embedded in the throats of enemies, some lying on the floor in pools of blood, reflecting Loki’s pale face back at him whenever he looked too closely. One, Loki clutched in his right hand. 

He felt exhausted. 

He allowed his body to drop to the floor, and he couldn’t move. He looked at the knife in his hands, and saw himself looking back, looking dead and soaked with everyone else’s blood. 

But it was his blood that deserved to be spilled. 

Loki laughed at the irony of it all. He had failed to save Steve. He’d failed to save everything he ever loved. He’d killed instead, destroyed, and he never managed to completely get rid of the monster that he was. 

The soft laughter turned to gasps, and Loki felt tears burning his eyes. Steve was probably in Valhalla, damn him, and there was nothing for Loki there. His death would not bring unity. He didn’t deserve such things. 

He could only hope that it would stop the pain and bring him rest. 

He had thought, perhaps, that if Steve hadn’t died, he could have been better. That all his lying about recovery could have turned into an actual recovery. That he could have been happy. 

He wished he had the ability to lie to himself. To pretend that Steve was still alive, still recovering, because then there would be hope. That lie was so much better than the cold truth. 

He’d always been a great liar, but even in this he failed. 

He wouldn’t see Steve in death (but perhaps he would, he still had that tiny bit of hope) but at least he wouldn’t suffer his loss in life. 

This was his escape, and Loki meant to take it. 

He was nothing to this world any more. 

**

Natasha walked into Doom’s lab and found a scene straight from a horror film. 

There were bodies, everywhere, and blood. So much blood. The floor was covered in it, an impossible amount. Natasha knew exactly how much blood the human body could hold and yet she was still shocked, still overwhelmed at what she saw before her. 

And in the center of this, one figure sitting hunched over and shaking. 

She could hear Loki’s ragged breathing as she approached him. She knew he could hear her—she wasn’t making an effort to be quiet. He’d done this, and she didn’t want to startle him into hurting her, or hurting himself. 

She reached him, and slowly circled until she was in front of him. His head was bowed, his body curled over the knife that he held in his hands, long and sharp and wicked and stained with blood. Whose blood, she couldn’t say. 

She knelt down in front of him. 

“He’s still dead,” Loki murmured. 

“I know,” Natasha said. 

Loki held out his arm, then, and Natasha took it. He was bleeding from a deep cut along his forearm. 

“He’s dead and I’m not,” Loki said, choking on the words. “I would exchange my life for his—”

“It doesn’t work that way,” Natasha said, her eyes still on the wound. She was about to find something to stem the bleeding when she noticed how sluggish it was, and how the edges were more pink than red, and she realized what Loki was talking about. He was healing. Already. 

It would take a lot to kill him. 

“The realms of the dead are not inaccessible,” Loki said. 

“The dead stay dead,” Natasha said. “Loki—” she stopped. She realized she didn’t know what to say. Instead she lowered his arm and reached for the hand holding the knife, and managed to uncurl his fingers from the handle and take it from him. 

“Come on,” she said. 

“I want to stay,” Loki muttered. 

“No.” Natasha stood and pulled Loki up. She wasn’t going to leave him here so that he could continue to try to kill himself. She knew Steve wouldn’t have wanted that. She wasn’t one for sentiment, but Steve had always been refreshingly optimistic in a world that she’d begun to see as increasingly ugly. 

She led Loki towards the exit. Loki pulled against her, but the action was weak. She continued to lead until she felt him sag and then fall, and she caught him. 

He’d passed out. 

This was easier. He didn’t wake up until after he was back in Stark Tower, and after Natasha had cleaned the blood from them both. 

**  
Loki opened his eyes. 

He was still alive. Still in Stark Tower. He wondered if the last day had been a strange nightmare. 

He turned his head to the side, too tired to sit up, too tired to really care. 

Steve was sitting in the chair next to him. 

Loki gasped, closed his eyes, and opened them. 

Steve was gone. 

But he was reachable. 

There were ways to find the dead. Loki knew them well, though he’d never attempted an exchange. 

He’d never really had to. 

But now he had nothing. Everyone he cared about was gone. And he’d never wanted to be the one left behind, to live centuries without anything but his memories and his nightmares. 

It was foolish, to think that he could be with them, to think that he had a chance to bring them back. 

But he was so tired. 

**

Natasha spent the next two days with SHIELD, helping them create a file for Doom and Hydra’s collaboration and for Loki’s destruction of Doom’s headquarters. It was complicated because they had to identify everyone who had died, go over the abandoned labs to check for any information they could find useful, and put it all in SHIELD’s databases. 

Natasha walked into Loki’s room briefly on the night she returned, only to find him asleep. He spent so much of his nights in the horrors of his own mind that she didn’t feel like disturbing him, so she left. 

The next morning she was woken by Jarvis. 

“Loki has disappeared,” he told her. “My systems have been compromised.” 

“Shit,” Natasha hissed as she jumped out of bed. 

Loki’s room was empty. 

Natasha got dressed and, with Tony, set out to find Loki. Jarvis’ systems were restored, and he helped them by scanning camera feeds and energy spikes. Loki wasn’t in Steve’s old apartment, nor was he in his own. 

He’d disappeared. 

“I don’t think he’s dead,” Tony said. 

Natasha wanted to tell him that he was being too optimistic, but she said nothing. Tony was still mourning. He didn’t need to be thinking about another death. 

“Keep looking,” she told Jarvis. 

She didn’t tell Tony that death was probably a best-case scenario. That Loki might turn to destruction now that he’d lost the last person he cared about. That the bloodbath of Hydra could be the beginning. 

Or, that Loki could be alive but trapped in the horrors of his own mind. 

She hoped that neither was the case. But she was too realistic to truly believe that Loki’s disappearance had any good outcome.


End file.
